


Moonsugar and Nightshade

by SpookyBitch



Category: Elder Scrolls, Elder Scrolls Online
Genre: Angst, Angst and Romance, Angst with a Happy Ending, Creative License, Drama, F/M, Love/Hate, Mostly Cannon Compliant, Romance, Torn Between Two Lovers
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-03-21
Updated: 2020-04-08
Packaged: 2021-02-28 17:22:27
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 9
Words: 23,227
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23240914
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SpookyBitch/pseuds/SpookyBitch
Summary: In the battle between Pride and Destiny, a woman struggles to draw the line between sinner and saint. How far can she go before the pull of the dragons leaves her with nothing but a smoldering pile of ashes in the place of her life? Torn between home and adventure, she finds herself trapped in a web of her own making, spun with dishonesty, desperation, and self-hatred.
Relationships: Abnur Tharn/Female Vestige, Abnur Tharn/Original Character(s), Abnur Tharn/Vestige, Razum-dar (Elder Scrolls)/Original Character(s), Razum-dar (Elder Scrolls)/Original Female Character(s), Razum-dar/Female Vestige (Elder Scrolls), Razum-dar/Vestige (Elder Scrolls)
Comments: 1
Kudos: 14





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Attention: There will be no trigger warnings at the beginning of each chapter. This is not a comprehensive list of trigger warnings.
> 
> This work contains elements that could be triggering to some, such as graphic depictions of violence and gore, some non-descript sexual situations, adult language, mentions of suicide and suicidal thoughts, panic attacks, vomit, etc. Please be aware that some triggers may not be listed here, though if any need to be added, I can and will do so upon request.
> 
> All rights go to the creators of the Elder Scrolls Series and ESO.
> 
> This, like everything else I write, has a soundtrack! If you're interested, slide into my DM's and I'll hit you with a Spotify link or a list!
> 
> This was written hastily in a burst of inspiration with no clear beginning or end. There is a real borrowing of some creative license in this, not going to lie. I may do some companion pieces to this that showcase life before and after these events, as well as a possible sequel, though that's not in the works at this time.
> 
> Any questions or mistakes being pointed out are welcome.
> 
> Enjoy!

2E 584

They were staring at her again.

Ellyria heaved a heavy sigh, continuing to pen her letter with the fancy quill in her hand. There was apparently no end to the oddness of her life. Though the benefit of rarely being surprised was nice, the rest of it was absolute insanity. In the beginning, she thought being sucked onto another continent by a man experimenting with portals was the craziest thing she would experience. She was incredibly wrong. That was relatively normal in comparison to being acknowledged as the Dragonborn by the Greybeards because of an accident in an ancient Nord crypt, becoming the champion for the Daedric prince Nocturnal, being slaughtered as a sacrifice to Molag Bal, and then kicking said Molag Bal's ass back to Oblivion as the Vestige. Now, as if that wasn't enough, two children were staring at her from the doorway to her office. Not just any children, though. No, they were _her_ children, and they were much older than when she had last seen them, before being drop kicked through a portal to Tamriel.

"What are you doing?" one of them finally asked.

"Writing a letter," she responded dryly. "Would you like to read it as well as watch me write it?"

There was no response. She didn't need to glance up to see they were still there, still staring. A sigh slipped through her lips, but she didn't say anything to them. She'd thought this staring business would be done after the first few days. Finally, Ellyria signed her name at the bottom and blew gently on the parchment to dry the letters. Folded, sealed, enveloped, and sealed again, and then it was ready to be sent off with her private courier. _That_ was new, too. After sleeping outside in the dirt with a trading caravan for several months before she was noticed by the man that brought her to Nirn, she had never imagined being wealthy enough to have her own personal, private courier, or a housekeeper in her beautiful Elven townhouse, or even the townhouse itself.

"Is there something either of you need?" Ellyria finally asked. She took a few steps toward them, wondering if they would move or make her move them. Her internal question was answered when both scrambled to either side of the doorway.

"We're just – we're just looking at you, I guess. You don't look like we thought you would."

A smile tugged at the edge of Ellyria's mouth. "I guess you thought I'd look older by now, right?"

There were some shrugs, but her daughter, Sarelia, nodded. It was odd-looking into the spitting image of herself as a sixteen-year-old, not that she appeared too many years older as a forty-year-old. Time had clearly passed for her children and not for her. Though this was disconcerting, it didn't matter much to Ellyria. The soul of the dragon would stop her aging indefinitely, according to the Graybeards, and she would live on until killed. Eternal youth would have its perks one day, she guessed.

"Come, it's nearing time for the tailor to arrive." Ellyria beckoned them over her shoulder as she continued up the stairs. "Has your grandmother come in from the terrace yet?"

"No – she still won't really talk to anyone," Adrian admitted, following closely. At only fourteen, he barely had any memory of his mother from twelve years before, though he was clearly the one that was the most excited to be with her again.

At first, Ellyria had briefly entertained the thought of sending them home. The thoughts were dashed as soon as they came into her mind. They would never be able to live normal lives again, knowing that magic existed and not knowing how the others on Aldmeris would react to their sudden disappearance and return. The humans from the mer-abandoned city were not keen on any magic or gods or general fuckery. Her housekeeper approached from the door to the terrace with a furrow in her brow.

"Lady Ellyria, I am unable to access the terrace again. What would you have me do about the vegetation?" Navarre asked. The older woman was flustered, though Ellyria couldn't imagine why.

"It's not a big deal, Navarre. I'm sure the plants won't die after only two days of neglect."

Ellyria could feel Navarre's annoyance. She heard it a few moments later. Her cheeky housekeeper was always quick to take her down a few notches.

"That sort of dismissal is why all of your vegetation was dead before I arrived."

Rolling her eyes, Ellyria stopped short of the stairway leading into her loft bedroom. She felt she was proficient enough in necromancy to bring back a few plants, though Navarre clearly didn't agree. Her fingers flicked toward the door with a little flourish and a dash of gold sparks. The door gently popped open to reveal the terrace and her mother sitting at the edge of a planter box.

"Water your plants, and please, give this to Tomen when you happen to go downstairs. And help them ready for the tailor if you don't mind." Ellyria continued up the stairs one sealed envelope lighter and without two teens on her heels. As an after-thought, she called over her shoulder, "And if Abnur Tharn shows his face, tell him to fuck off."

A few hours later found the tailor leaving with measurements for Sarelia, Adrian, and Evelyn, and instructions to make all manner of clothing options for them. Now dressed in her own set of leather armor, Ellyria tied the tops of her boots into place just beneath her knees. It fit well but left much to be desired when compared to the lightweight armor from other parts of the world. The chain mail sewn into the leather jingled ever so slightly when all was silent, and the buckles were placed in odd places. Her sword clanked against a buckle at her waist as she moved down the stairs. Ellyria rolled her eyes but didn't bother to try to fix it. New armor would head her way soon enough with the envelope in her courier's capable hands.

"Where are you going?" Adrian asked as soon as her boots left the bottom step. "Can I come with you?"

Her eyebrows lifted in surprise. Adrian shifted on his feet uncertainly. Lanky and lean, he was more like a clumsy noodle rather than a warrior. It would be a very bad idea for him to go with her, especially with the idiotic situations she tended to barge into headfirst.

"I'm going to meet an awful man about an awful weapon. I don't think it would be wise for you to come with me." Ellyria snatched a dagger from her waist and pressed it into his hand. "Ask Navarre for lessons, and when you can use it properly, I'll let you come. Sarelia, too, if she wants."

"Wow! This is so cool!"

Her smile lingered for the short walk to Queen Ayrenn's stables. Another perk she never imagined having, Ellyria found herself glad for friends in high places. Without them, she would still be bundled in traditional Khajiiti robes, caravanning around Tamriel. She would have been no less happy with that life, though, she admitted to herself silently. Sapphire stood at the ready, already tacked up and waiting to ride into battle. Razum-dar leaned against the wall near her head, patting the animal's neck with furry hands. He didn't bother to straighten when she entered, instead waiting for her to make her way to stand between his legs. Her hands found a home on his chest.

"You'll keep an eye on them, right?" Ellyria asked quietly, worriedly.

It drove against every nature in her body to worry about another. The three years with the Graybeards and nine years in Cyrodiil's tumultuous political climate had taught her to worry only for her own skin. Even her life in Aldmeris had been herself against the world until her children had been born. And still, the once dead instincts of being a mother were snaking tentacles around her throat.

"Of course, Raz will take good care of them while you are with the mage." With quick fingers, he snatched up her hand and gave a mocking half-bow that brought his face close to hers. "The Eyes of the Queen are at your service, sweet sugar."

Ellyria rolled her eyes but didn't pull away. "Stop, before the wrong person hears your jokes."

Kissing a Khajiit was an odd sensation. There was fur against her mouth and a sandpaper tongue pressing against her lips, but it didn't really feel like kissing. Her hands pressed up against his pectorals, one sliding up to wrap around the back of his neck. When his hand slipped down to grab her ass through the leather of her armored pants, Ellyria whacked him on the shoulder.

"The Eye of the Queen does not have time to indulge in such illicit activities in the stables," she teased, pushing him away by the chest. He grabbed her hand above his heart, holding it tightly against his chest as if wounded. There was a noise of fake pain, and a smile tugged again at her lips. "Don't get into too much trouble without me."

"This one would not dare," he assured her. "Who would he have to rescue from the bars of prison should you not be here?"

Her mount was steady as she swung into the saddle. With a gentle press of her heels, Sapphire shot away from the stable and down the cobblestone streets of Auridon. Ellyria gave the horse her head. Hoofbeats filled her ears as cobblestone turned to dirt and then they were tearing away toward Vulkhel Guard. With her children and her mother and her lover behind her, Ellyria left the thoughts, and guilts, and worries for them, too. There was no room for that as she rode into what would surely be the jaws of death once again.


	2. Chapter 2

"What do you mean, 'no?'"

"Surely a man of your intelligence knows that 'no' is a complete sentence," Ellyria snapped, whirling around. Her finger dug into the chest plate of his armor, hurting her finger more than helping make her point. "I will _not_ follow either of you into some dank cave looking for something called a _demon weapon_. That is asking for trouble. That is walking right up to trouble and begging it to shit on my day. I've had _enough_ trouble for the lifetime I'll be stuck living, and every single bit of it started with _you_ , Abnur Tharn."

Khamira and Abnur exchanged glances. Unworried, he brushed her hand away from him to walk past her. He knew she would cave eventually. She always did. He could wait for them at the inn in the meantime. There was no such assurance for Khamira. Her furred fingers wrapped around Ellyria's wrist uncertainly before she could stalk away.

"My home is suffering beneath the foot of the Usurper Queen," Khamira reminded her. "If this… this weapon can end the Three Banners War, it will also allow us to take back our home."

A deep breath in and then a deep breath out left Ellyria no steadier than before. From the moment she'd ridden away from the Queen's stables in Auridon, this trip had made her stomach churn. The broken stones in Abnur's possession were calling out to her, screaming in her head. That's exactly how she knew following him into another idiotic scheme was a bad idea. Following Abnur anywhere was generally a bad idea, she reminded herself, despite how often she found herself holding onto the end of his cape. Khamira's sad kitten eyes were tearing her down in other ways. From the moment she'd been stranded on Nirn, Ellyria had a soft spot for the Khajiiti people of Elsweyr. A traveling trade caravan had picked her up, alone and hungry and dirty and in an unfamiliar place. They gave her a warm place to sleep, three meals a day, and the only thing they asked for in return was her stories and companionship. Without them, she would have been another dead girl, decaying on the forest floor. Her eyes fluttered shut as she pursed her lips. Nocturnal knew she would regret ever meeting either of these people.

" _Fine_."

Abnur Tharn's smug face made anger surge up from the pit of her stomach. He knew she would give in.

"Damn you both to Oblivion and back."

The bottles of whiskey were emptying quickly as the three outlined their plan to venture into the Hall of Colossus. Khamira and Abnur stayed at one another's throats all evening, much to Ellyria's annoyance. Playing the mediator grew old quickly. Eventually, Khamira moved to her room at the inn, leaving Abnur and Ellyria to finish the night together. Ellyria fidgeted with the glass between her fingers, twirling it to and from either hand. Her mind drifted back to Auridon as she stared off at nothing, wondering if the Hall of Colossus would be the adventure that killed her for the final time. It would fall in line with her luck. Her children would continue to live in a world without a mother, and she would be thrust into Oblivion once again. It wasn't as if she would be stuck in Oblivion, not with knowing the way out now that she had been there. But would she want to leave? It was _hard_ to tear one's self out of the comforting arms of death. It had been hard to take her place as Vestige when staying there in that cell without responsibility would have been so easy.

"Speak your mind, Ellyria," Abnur offered, sipping from his crystal glass.

"Why did you bring them here?" There was a stutter in her brain, some of it the drink and some of it the call of the stone just up the stairs of the inn. She could feel it's presence like a living thing, sitting in leather wrappings in his satchel. It pulsed at the back of her mind like an afterthought. "My children and my mother, I mean – why did you bring them here knowing what I went through?"

Ellyria had never seen Abnur unsure before. She'd seen him angry, helpless, scared, drunk. She'd seen him naked, smirking, and once, even smiling. _That_ had caught her off guard. And yet, she had never seen him unsure. The look on him was startling, and something she didn't want to ever see again.

"I have so much to make up for regarding you."

Maybe it was the whiskey, or maybe she just couldn't hate him the way she wanted to. Their decade of history was too much for her to ignore. They had shared laughs together, felt pain together, shed blood together. They had planned an emperor's assassination together. They'd shared a bed more often than not until she found herself the vestige. Her hand found his on the table between them.

"You have nothing to make up for, Abnur," she assured him quietly, earnestly.

Abnur Tharn had ruined her old life and given her a new one, all at once. He had snatched her out death's maw before pushing her right back in. He'd given her up to Mannimarco but stood at her side as she beat Molag Bal back into Oblivion. He was selfish and self-serving, ready to throw everyone else's life away for his own gain. Yet, his faith in her ability had been unwavering once he'd seen what she was capable of. Before him, she'd never had that. Before she had come to Tamriel, her life on Auridon had been one long stretch days, void of anything other than work and sleep. Seeing his uncertainty because of _her_ was horrible. Instead of letting him continue, Ellyria kissed him. Soft and sure, to make up for the lack of his own surety, she pulled him between the sheets of her bed. With the distinct possibility of dying in the Hall of Colossus, Ellyria didn't fight the urge to burrow into his warmth. If they died the following day, she knew she had so much to make up for regarding him, too, and no time to do it.

The following day, they traversed the ancient ruins and she realized she was right. They were all going to die. From the moment they had stepped inside, the Wrathstone had been screaming for her. It was echoing in her skull as they crept through the cavernous, trap-filled halls. It left her skin buzzing, her adrenaline rushing, her mind thick with paranoia. For every glance over her shoulder, the was a breeze that kissed the back of her neck, waiting for her guard to be let down. Each Euraxian cut down was another pair of eyes, staring at her from darkened corners. As they drew closer to whatever awaited them, Ellyria's chest swelled with unease. The dragon within urged her forward with soft murmurs felt only as they brushed against her subconscious.

Abnur blew through the doors of the main hall with his staff. Ellyria's breath caught in her throat, leaving her struggling to move. Her chest was fire, inside and out, while her brain was fuzzy with the humming along the wall of ruins. _She knew those runes_. The dragon within whispered them to her in the darkness, the thu'um an internal buzz. The faint buzz grew loud, leaving her unable to hear anything else. The image of a dragon on the wall was burning into her retinas, and she was powerless to stop whatever was behind it. With no logical explanation, only an instinct that screamed _teeth_ and _claws_ and _danger_ , her mouth fell open to stop him from pressing the stone together. Her voice wouldn't cooperate, her tongue thick with a lack of saliva. She couldn't even scream. Both halves of the Wrathstone glowed as he held them out. Panic seized them all as the stone snapped together as one, sending a glow up the wall of the cavern in the shape of those runes.

When the dragons burst forth from the wall, Ellyria's eyes rolled back in her head. She dropped like a sack of potatoes, her sword clanging loudly as it hit the ground between her body and stone. The dragons soared over her head like a cool breeze. With her soul singing, Ellyria could do nothing but follow the impulse to chase them toward the edge of the cliff. Her steps were staggers, the whispers still louder than anything else in her head. Her dragon's soul yearned to fly, to follow the beasts into the sky. A swift hand saved her once again as Abnur halted her from sprinting off the edge. Struggling against him, Ellyria watched her brothers soar away, the dragon within roaring for her to follow.

"Come back to yourself, Ellyria!"

He was shouting and Khamira was grabbing at her, but Ellyria could hear nothing but the roar in her ears. Then, everything went black.

When she came to, it was tucked into the bed of an inn with her wrists tied to the bedframe and with the call of the dragon burning in her veins.

"Where are we?" she croaked, pulling at the ties that bound her wrists to the bed. "Untie me, Khamira."

Khamira watched her with an unreadable expression, making Ellyria grow more restless. She shifted in place beneath the think blanket that covered her body. Her heart was thundering in her chest, unable to slow down. The lingering panic was still in her veins, still screaming for her to follow the dragons. She could _feel_ them, could feel all of them as they soared through the sky. Something inside of her, her dragon's soul, begged for her to seek them out.

"If I release you, you may not follow the call of the dragons," Khamira said carefully. Something that tasted like unease filled the air of the room.

It was hard to think of anything else. Trembling and lost, Ellyria nodded in blind acceptance. Maybe she would comply, maybe she wouldn't – but at least she wouldn't be bound. Khamira's claws sliced through the ropes like butter.

"Where are we?"

Khamira sat down in the chair next to her bed again, resting tight fists against her knees. "We are at the Sweet Breezes Inn, in Senchal."

Ellyria swallowed tightly, rubbing at her wrists. She was still shell shocked. Her chest hurt, and her head hurt, but there was a longing in her blood like she had never experienced. It was difficult to reconcile when everything else felt muted in comparison.

"I remember the dragons escaping. What happened after that?"

Khamira explained how Abnur had knocked her out with a blow to the head, her screaming that shook the entire mountain beneath them, the way she clawed at them to let her fling herself from the edge. Then, she told her of Euraxia's ploy to have Abnur use the Wrathstone. It was all planned from the beginning to exploit his drive to have the Three Banners War ended. Bitterness filled the air between them, and Ellyria wondered how long she would be watching Abnur's back for this. How long would she have to watch her own back this time? A heavy sigh heaved from her chest. As they sat in quiet contemplation, she wondered how much her world was about to change again. Despite the driving force inside of her to join the dragons, she still didn't know what being Dragonborn meant. What was the point of living a life that would stretch on forever if she didn't even know what it meant?

Would her children be Dragonborn, too? Would they feel the call of the dragon?

The thought spurred her into action. Her children would die trying to follow the cry of the dragon. With no one aware of her affliction, no one would know of their own. There would be no one to stop them. Ellyria flew out of the bed, snatching her sword from the corner of the small room. Khamira's hands were strong, but not strong enough to stop her.

"I have to go home, Khamira," Ellyria snapped, jerking away from the Khajiit's grasp. Khamira's claws sliced through the leather sleeve of her jerkin like water. "If my children follow the call of the dragon, there is no one to stop them." There would be no one to stop her, either.

Once outside, the burning in her chest began to ease. It was always easier to breathe beneath the open sky. Sapphire met her at the door, unsaddled yet ready to go. The horse was linked to her in so many ways, and she knew the beast would run itself to death to get her home. While most days that felt more like a burden than a gift, Ellyria knew she would be dead without the animal's intuition and psychic reach. Prancing in one spot, Sapphire tossed her head with a throaty noise.

"I'll meet you in Riverhold soon; I won't abandon your plight, Khamira, I promise." Ellyria swung herself onto Sapphire's back, steadying the mare in place. "Tell Abnur where I've gone, and I'll see you both soon. And please, tell no one of what you know of me."

Without waiting for a response, Ellyria tapped her feet against the flanks of her horse. The beast shot off like the wind itself, blowing through town. The thunder of her hooves filled the air around them.


	3. Chapter 3

The wayshrine dropped her in the middle of Auridon, still astride her horse. Even with the dizzying drain of magic, Ellyria didn't hesitate to spur the animal into another gallop. Sapphire stumbled forward with the first few strides until she found her footing again. The light of Jone and Jode lit their path as they tore through the cobblestone streets. The clop of hooves was the only sound echoing through the streets. Her mount was quick to skid to a stop at the pull of her reins. Her townhouse looked dark from the outside. Whether that was good or bad, she didn't yet know. Dropping from the back of the animal, Ellyria ignored the jarring feel of her feet hitting flat on the stone ground. She was through the door in two strides. Razum-dar stood idly at the base of the stairs with his back to her, tail twitching through the air. His foot was on the second stair and his clawed hand was wrapped around a flute filled with wine. She wanted to ask what he was doing in her house, but a part of her was filled with thrill at finding him already there. One important person was located and safe. There were others on her short list that had not been crossed out, however.

"Where are they?" Ellyria demanded immediately. Seeing no one in her office, nor anyone in the sitting room, she surged past his still form without waiting for an answer.

Adrian was sound asleep in his bed, a head full of dark hair staining his pillow in the barely lit room. The tight fist around her heart released a little bit of its hold at the sight of him. Ellyria felt Razum-dar's heat against her back a few moments later. His fingers curled around her upper arms, stilling her from heading to the next bed with recklessly loud steps.

"This one believes the others you seek are out on the terrace, sweet sugar," he said lowly. His hands uncurled to run down her arms, seeking her fur-less fingers to tangle with. She could smell the wine on his breath over her shoulder. "What has you so disturbed on this peace-filled night?"

Ellyria could barely hear the voices of her mother and daughter drifting in from the terrace, just as he said. They were speaking softly to one another, gentle and easy in the cool, clear night. Turning in his arms, her hands came up to rest against his chest. Free of armor, she could feel the definition of muscle beneath his woven shirt. His eyes were so blue, and she knew he would see the guilt in her own. Instead of looking up into his face, she kept her gaze on his neck. How could she explain the dragons? How could she explain Abnur Tharn, and her restless feelings toward him even after so much time had passed? She knew Razum-dar probably had other lovers than her. These thoughts didn't bother her. It was the dishonesty that was sitting so heavily in her chest, next to the yearning for heavy wings and thunderous shouts. It was in the absence of the things she should tell him that her discomfort sat so thickly.

"We were set up by Euraxia Tharn," she explained first. "She led us on a specter hunt for some great weapon. There is no weapon."

Razum-dar swallowed tightly. He had heard rumors of the world-altering schemes she was always caught up in, some stories from her and some from the long reach of the Queen's knowledge. "What did you find?"

"Dragons – we found dragons. We opened the door that sealed them, and now they roam freely on Nirn."

Ellyria hesitated then, not entirely willing to share the stirring feelings in her guts. Razum-dar's obligation was to Queen Ayrenn, not herself, and whatever things of consequence he knew, the Queen knew. Indecision tore at her. To tell him or not? To lie or withhold? While she was loyal to Ayrenn, she was loyal to herself as well, and there would be consequences to making her status as Dragonborn public knowledge, even with the support of the Graybeards. Sometimes fate was as kind as it was cruel, and she did not want to test the powers that be. She didn't even know what it meant, anyway, to be named Dragonborn. What would be expected of her should others become knowledgeable of her unexpected birthright?

"Raz must warn the queen," he murmured firmly, pressing sharp claws into the material of her leather jerkin. The material creaked beneath his tight grip. "What have you gotten yourself into this time, sweet sugar? Raz cannot save you from dragons."

Though small, the smile that pulled at her mouth was genuine. "I don't need you to save me, Razum-dar," she assured him. She sounded far surer than she felt.

The dragons still called to her soul, and she called to them. Ellyria wondered how long she would be able to stay away. She wondered if she would be able to fight against them for the whole of Nirn. Maybe she would let the world burn and live on forever with her brothers. With fire in her chest and desperation burning in her eyes, she released him from the tight grip of fists on his shirt. Razum-dar left to report the queen, taking her smile down the stairs and out the door with him. Instead of going up the stairs to her loft, Ellyria took quiet, measured steps out onto the terrace.

"Mom, you're back!" Sarelia's voice was watery, and so were her eyes.

Ellyria allowed her daughter to wrap her up in a hug. Her own arms came to rest on the girl's back, pulling her tightly against her chest. "What's the matter, Sarelia?" she asked softly.

She didn't pull away for a long time. Ellyria didn't make her.

"We weren't sure when you would be back. Raz said what you do is dangerous, and sometimes you leave for months at a time." Sarelia sniffed quietly, clearly trying not to cry. "Grandma wasn't sure you'd come back at all."

For the first time since arriving on Tamriel, Evelyn felt the full weight of her daughter's cold gaze. They had been dancing around one another for nearly two weeks, and with Ellyria gone for three more, there had been no appropriate time for a confrontation. There would be no more avoidance. Seeing the changes in her daughter was harder than she had expected it to be. Where before there had been defeat and exhaustion, it had been replaced by a quiet sort of confidence. Ellyria had become a different person than the girl she had raised on Aldmeris. Evelyn struggled to relate the woman she had seen back in her home with the woman that stood before her now.

"I don't know anything about you anymore, Ellyria," Evelyn immediately snapped defensively. "I don't know what you do, or what goes on in this place. I only know that you and that cat-fellow are into dangerous, horrible things. Gone for so long with no way to talk to anyone – how are we supposed to know you aren't dead in some ditch somewhere, being eaten by some monster or a bear?"

"I felled a _god_. If you think a bear will be the thing that gets to claim my life, you are sorely mistaken." There was a tense moment of silence on the terrace. Even the night-birds were silent in their singing. "Keep your negative horseshit to yourself and stop spreading it to my children."

A sharp breath left her when Adrian slammed into her back to complete the circle of the hug. He squeezed hard, lanky arms surrounding her and Sarelia both.

"Nothing can kill you, Mom. Raz told us that you're the strongest person he's ever seen," Adrian mumbled between her shoulder blades. "I told Grandma that, but she didn't listen."

"Stop worrying, both of you. I'm fine, and you're fine, and your grandmother is fine. This is an adjustment for us all." Diplomacy did not come easy, though that didn't mean Ellyria was hopeless at it. If she had to politic her family for a little while, she would. Her sharp blue eyes left Evelyn to watch the moons shining above the buildings of Auridon. It was as if Jone and Jode were staring back at her. "Did you feel the dragons?"

Sarelia pulled back to look up at Ellyria's face. "Dragons?" she repeated with excitement. "There are dragons?"

Adrian's face mirrored his older sister's excitement. Ellyria sucked in a sharp breath, unsure if it was with relief or disappointment. They didn't have a dragon's soul. They would die a human's death in a human's lifetime. A fact that Ellyria should have expected, and yet did not. The pain that it caused was unexpected and unwanted. She had enough going on without the added stress of watching her children grow old.

"Yes, there are dragons, though I wish you didn't sound so excited about it. They aren't as inviting as the legends would have you believe."

Ellyria cleaned up her facial expression, letting her muscles fall lax. There was a stinging in her eyes, but it was ignored for stepping away toward the night-blooming flowers along the fenced railing. Her fingers trailed against the soft petals of a lotus, watching it curl away from her touch. A deep breath in, a deep breath out – she was still just as unsteady as she was her first day alive on Nirn. Ellyria knew she would never gain her footing here, not totally and never the way she wanted. Too many things were always happening, all of which demanded her attention. She was flawed and awful, and yet the world always seemed to look to her to save it even when she really didn't want to. There was so much she wanted to do and see. There was so much she had yet to try. And yet, she continued being the savior, even when no one was looking. Ellyria was finally realizing she was _tired_. Only twelve years as a citizen of Tamriel had exhausted her beyond belief, and there was no rest in her future. For once, she wished she could just be as selfish as she wanted to be.

"Go, rest – I'll tell you all more in the morning. I'll be leaving again, but I can spare the time to have a morning meal with you, first." Ellyria shooed them all inside but hesitated at the door of the terrace. Her eyes found the moons again, high in the sky. Her chest longed for the dragons just out of reach. Her voice was a whisper when she finally spoke. "Jone and Jode, Nocturnal, please, guide me. I'm so lost."

Morning found her with no more clarity than the night before. A distinct lack of sleep was felt throughout the household, save Navarre who slept through her thunderous entrance. Ellyria stared up at the ceiling as she listened to the shuffling of sleepy humans on the floor below. The sheets were cold without someone else to warm them, and the loneliness was a sharp knife at her throat. What she wouldn't give for a simple life, lying in Razum-dar's arms… She huffed a breath of air through her nose. She may be able to lie to everyone else, but she couldn't lie to herself. She loved the thrill of sprinting from death's tight grasp, the adrenaline rush of sliding by with the skin of her teeth, the fire in her veins that drove her toward each new adventure like a moth to a flame.

"Lady Ellyria, I'm sorry to wake you, but the tailor wishes you to inspect his newest set," Navarre's voice floated from by the stairs.

"It's fine, Navarre, I'm already up; did Tomen ever return with a reply for my letter?" Ellyria asked, pushing herself up into a sitting position.

Navarre moved across the room with quick steps to snatch Ellyria's robe from where it hung on the door of her wardrobe. While she wanted to smile at the housekeeper, she couldn't bring herself to. The soft thank you had to be enough. There was never enough time nor emotion to really, truly tell Navarre how much she appreciated the woman's thorough care. Before her thoughts could take an even darker path, she gathered them up and focused them onto relevant things.

"There was a sealed envelope that bore no symbols; it's waiting in your office, locked away of course," Navarre said, talking as she flitted around the bed. It took her only moments to make the bed, fluff the pillows, and gather a pair of slippers for Ellyria's feet. "I've already had the morning meal prepared for your children and your mother, and there is a brew of Everblack in the kettle for you as soon as you're ready."

"What would I do without you, Navarre?" Ellyria asked quietly, sliding her feet into the slippers.

Navarre snorted. "You would brew your own coffee and eat nothing but tavern food. Your vegetation would be dead, your beautiful home would be a mess."

A laugh barked out of her throat. "Thank you for telling me how you really feel."

"Of course, Lady Ellyria – you did not hire me to coddle you."

The smile came easier with Navarre's blatant teasing at her expense. Ellyria linked arms with the housekeeper, pulling her down the stairs at her side. "How are they adjusting? Is my mother feeling any more comfortable?"

"Your children are both naturals at working with the short blade daggers, Sarelia especially. She is very keen on learning all that I can teach her in every aspect. We've started on simple spells, already, as well." Navarre brushed the hair away from her face, glancing through the door leading to the terrace as they came around the corner of the stairs. "Your mother is quite difficult to entertain, no offense meant, Lady Ellyria. She seems to be growing more at ease each day, though I am not really certain."

That was expected. Ellyria knew her mother was a difficult person in general, and she knew the sort of stress that came with such unexpected _traveling_. It was hard to be understanding when Evelyn had so much more than she did starting out. Evelyn had an incredible house, a housekeeper, and wanted for nothing, while Ellyria had known nothing but hunger and danger and fear. _Ungrateful_ was a fitting word that she was reluctant to speak aloud. Once it was in the air, it would not be taken back.

"This place will grow on her, I hope," Ellyria said wearily.

The dining room was warm with the presence of people. Sarelia and Adrian sat side by side, chatting happily while Evelyn was at the end of the table picking at her plate. No one looked up when Ellyria and Navarre entered, and for that, Ellyria was glad. She was still deciding on what exactly to tell them all. She wasn't startled when Razum-dar swept into the room behind them, tail twitching in the air as he balanced a tray of dainty flutes alongside a full decanter of Gingerose Tea. Her heart stuttered to a stop seeing him doing something so _domestic_. He was in civilian clothes, dressed in the soft blue shirt and beige pants that came in a care package from his mother. Discomfort filled her to the brim. How could she trust him in her home and with her heart when she was hiding so many things? How could _he_ trust _her_ at all?

"Is this new, sugar paws?" Razum-dar asked coyly, tugging at the short sleeve of her robe with his free hand.

Ellyria rolled her eyes, hiding the smile that tugged at her lips. "You know it isn't."

Casting all thoughts of Abnur and dragons and sealed envelopes from her mind, she tried to focus on being present in the room before her. She dropped into a seat across from Sarelia with Razum-dar at her side. Without restraint, Ellyria piled her plate full of food, hoping to dull the ache in her chest by filling her stomach. It wouldn't work, but she could always try.

"Lady Ellyria, I present the newest in Elven fashion that I have sewn for you and your family," the tailor announced, waltzing into the dining room with a rolling wardrobe in tow.

They all watched silently as he showed the many outfits and dresses and sets of leathers, each sized to perfection for each person. Ellyria waited patiently for him to tell them the inspiration behind each piece, and the materials he'd stitched each from. He was very thorough, and that was the reason she commissioned him over the other numerous tailors in Auridon. Seeing Sarelia and Adrian excited to be wearing something other than her used hand-me-downs and the things Navarre could scrounge up tugged at something in her chest.

"And this is for you, Lady Ellyria. He calls it "Holiday in Balmora" – imported directly from a colleague in Morrowind. I believe this will eliminate this issue of your sleeves and loose, long tunic tops," Estinwe explained, pulling a carefully wrapped package from the bottom of the wardrobe. He placed it at the edge of the table. "The armor is light, but it is weaved with enchanted mithril. If it is not to your liking, please, send your courier to inform me."

"Thank you, Estinwe; I think we're all very pleased with what you've brought us today."

Before he was completely through the door, Adrian and Sarelia were already tearing up the stairs with bundles of cloth in their arms. Evelyn said a quiet thank you, before following in their lead. Navarre sat in the other empty chair at the head of the table, chewing quietly on a piece of bread.

"Having something of her own will help, Lady Ellyria. She will adjust in time to Auridon, as you did," Navarre assured her.

Ellyria's fingers squeezed into tight fists from where they rested on her thighs. "Sometimes I think you have the power to read my mind, Navarre."

Navarre shrugged. "Maybe I do."

Razum-dar scraped the last of the Apple Spanakopita from his plate before leaning back in his chair with a groan. "This one should not have filled his plate so full."

Ellyria and Navarre shared a look. "You say that every time," Ellyria teased, kicking at his ankle beneath the table. "Stop eating so much if it makes you sick."

"Then who else would finish the food from the ever-lovely Navarre's kitchen?" He pressed the back of his hand against his forehead dramatically. "And she always makes Raz such delicious food from his homeland – how could he not eat it all?"

The pounding of feet sounded from above them, and both teenagers flung themselves into their chairs at the table. Adrian had chosen a set of trousers to match the woven shirt and knee-length boots, while Sarelia was covered from her neck down in armor made from strong leather and splashes of chain mail. With her hair braided tightly against her head, she looked every bit the warrior that her mother was. Ellyria's chest clenched tightly, aching at the thought of her daughter in battle at only sixteen years old. She had met younger warriors that had incredible talent in the arena, and yet, reminding herself of that fact didn't make her feel much better. At the arena, each of those young warriors had fallen to her blade.

"I want to fight with you before you leave again," Sarelia announced firmly. Her voice demanded a listener, but her eyes shone with uncertainty. "I want to show you what I've learned from Navarre and Raz."

With eyebrows up almost to her hairline, Ellyria turned in her chair to face Razum-dar. Before she could say anything, he was explaining. Typical for him, the answer was just as troublesome as the action.

"This one said he would keep eyes on them, sweet sugar, but Raz thinks keeping paws on the kittens would be safer." Sitting straighter in his seat, his head angled to meet her gaze. There was no reason for her not to trust him with this. He would be quick to remind her in private, she knew. "Should something happen to you, the kittens must know how to defend themselves. Raz will not always be here to do this."

Forcing herself to be calm was difficult. With dragon-fire scalding her veins, reigning in her violent emotions was always a chore. Her fingers tapped against her thighs with no rhythm. The motion was not as soothing as she wished it was. She knew he was right. Dragons were roaming free in Tamriel, and she would be bringing the fight to them. There would be a time when no one could protect her _kittens_ but themselves.

"Besides, this one has not seen such promising young warriors for quite some time. Young Sarelia will surpass this one in skill if he is not careful."

Navarre chimed in on his behalf. "He's right, Lady Ellyria – Adrian's skill is nothing to balk at, but Sarelia is extremely quick to learn in all subjects. We've already begun work in the Restoration and Alteration schools of magic and she is quite good."

Blindsided, Ellyria knew logically that all of this was good. Her children deserved to learn to defend themselves, and she knew they were behind the curve on most others their age in Tamriel. She was unprepared to learn that they were any good, however, and wholly unprepared to hear such praise from two very reliable and adept sources.

"As long as you're not dabbling in the Necromantic school, feel free to teach them as you please," Ellyria said slowly. "Should they surpass either of you in skill, find them another to train them further in whatever interests them."

Her forming of a response was hesitant but sure. Twelve years, her children had lived without her, and now, they were adults in the eyes of the crown. She had no right to hold them back because of her own apprehensions. If they wanted to learn, she would be sure they had great teachers. Ellyria forced her fingers to relax in her lap for a few moments before she brought her hands up to finish eating. It would do no one any good to see her trembling fingers. Whether it was anger or uncertainty that caused it, she still did not know.

Sarelia was quick to drag her onto the terrace after the morning meal, bouncing on the heels of her feet with excitement. Instead of mirroring her stance, Ellyria stood loosely, both hands deliberately near her waist. She only had to wait a moment before Sarelia was moving with unexpected speed. They whirled around one another, Ellyria on the defensive while Sarelia advanced her back toward the door. With a quick maneuver, Ellyria struck the side of her daughter's knee with a nimble foot. Sarelia recovered perfectly. With one knee on the cobblestone, she drew her dagger, slicing through the air where Ellyria's thigh had been seconds before. Ellyria's bounce back gave her time to get to her feet again. With her dagger out, Sarelia advanced quicker than before, driving Ellyria in the opposite direction of the terrace doors. Before she could slice into her mother's stomach, her blade was blocked with a sharp clank. The distinct smell of magic began to fill the air around them as Ellyria's conjured sword held steady against the dagger.

"If you're not going to fight to kill, you're going to die. Never go easy on someone, Sarelia, because they will never give you the same courtesy."

The fight was on again. They circled one another, Sarelia lashing out when Ellyria would leave deliberate openings. Ellyria drove her back with a set of rapid strikes. Stumbling, Sarelia lost her footing, back hitting the fence before she could recover. Ellyria struck out again, twisting her foot around Sarelia's knee to bring her down onto her chest in a heap. It was over quickly, ending with Ellyria's slipper-covered foot pressing down into the middle of Sarelia's back and her conjured sword a hair's breadth away from her neck. With a swish of her fingers, the sword was gone, and she was pulling her daughter up by the bicep.

"You did well, Sarelia. I look forward to another match with you once you've learned more," Ellyria said, clapping a hand on her shoulder.

The smile on Sarelia's face was genuine and bright, despite having just gotten her ass kicked. It was infectious. Pride swelled in Ellyria's stomach. Adrian clapped obnoxiously from the doorway of the townhouse, for which woman, neither knew. They crowded through the dining room, each claiming a soft chair in the parlor. The thrill of the fight, despite it only being a spar, slowly began to fade from Ellyria's veins. She wondered if Sarelia felt the same way. Ellyria slipped up the stairs with silent feet, allowing the happy conversation to continue without her. Trading out her robe for the new set of armor was a difficult decision to make. Leaving would put her closer to the dragons she so longed to join, and she didn't know if she was strong enough to stay away from them.

Her thoughts tumbled into the darkness as she pulled on each new piece of armor. The outfit was snug, comfortable, and lightweight. The sleeves stopped at her bicep, leaving the part of her arms bare that was never comfortably trapped in the leather. Her chest being so exposed was a bother but ignored. Cleavage was an asset for her to use that most men, and quite a few women, would be hard-pressed to ignore in the dank places her adventures took her. Her trousers were skintight, and the boots fit snuggly around them. All in all, she was pleased. There would be no squeaking leather or rustling chain mail as she slunk around in the dark, and the base of her boots were cushioned for silence. The mithril thrummed silently as she threaded a bit of magic into the fabrics. Ellyria swallowed hard once she was completely dressed. There were so many muddled thoughts in her brain, and she had no idea what to do about any of it. Briefly, she wondered what Abnur would think of it.

"This one thinks such fancy armor is not fit for dragon hunting," Razum-dar said, leaning in his place against the edge of the stairs.

Another bout of guilt smashed into her as she looked toward him. "I don't think there _is_ armor fit for dragon hunting, Raz."

His feet brought him close enough for his fingers to reach out toward her, brushing the hair away from her throat. He was gentle, attentive when he drew her closer. "You have such weight on your shoulders all the time. Raz would bear it for you if he could."

She was silent as her forehead came to rest on his chest. His heartbeat thumped against her, slow and steady. What could she say? What could she tell him that wouldn't be a lie? There was a tightness growing between them the longer she stood so quietly. Her fingers tangled into his shirt, gripping it with both hands. Would he care? Was this thing between them serious? Would he resent her for keeping so many heavy truths to herself?

"I have to go," she said finally.

Forcing her fingers to release him, she ignored the burning behind her eyes as she closed them to kiss him. Unspoken things welled up in the atmosphere around them, threatening to burst. The points of his claws dug into the thick material of the trousers covering her hips, not giving way beneath his strength the way her other leathers had.

"This one will see you to the stables."

Sapphire pranced in place, agitated by the small crowd surrounding her. Sarelia released her from the tight grip of a hug, only for Adrian to replace her. His lanky arms wound all the way around her shoulders. Ellyria wondered just how tall he would get to be once he stopped growing, as his head was already halfway above hers, and entirely above Sarelia's. When both teenagers had their fill of hugs, they stepped back to linger next to Razum-dar. Her throat was tight when she swallowed. Ellyria still managed to swing herself onto Sapphire's back, the motion appearing effortless even though it took all her strength. She felt too heavy, leaving these beings that she cared for behind.

"I'll send word when I can. If you need to speak with me, Tomen can help you get a letter to me." Ellyria rolled her shoulders against the greatsword resting on her back. "Stay out of trouble, all of you."

Razum-dar's teasing smirk was burning into her brain as she watched him. Her stomach churned when her mind drifted to the same smirk Abnur would wear. "This one makes no promises," he said, his voice stirring her mind away from thoughts of mages.

Ellyria rolled her eyes, not feeling it but the motion still there. Then, she was turning her horse in the direction of a wayshrine just outside of Auridon.


	4. Chapter 4

Seeing Mulaamnir for the first time brought Ellyria to her knees. His voice washed over her like a physical touch, blowing back the hair that stuck to her face with sweat and caressing her skin with soft heat. This was a _dragon_. This was the being that her soul longed to soar through the sky with. Her heart sang in time with the beat of his wings as he lowered himself to speak with her. Tears stung her eyes and her breath was caught in her throat in awe even as her knees dug harshly into the rocky dirt beneath her.

"Mulaamnir wanted to thank you, little morsel. Your actions helped free us of our hated prison." His voice was a growl, deliberately soft as not to knock her over. "Now, listen to the words I say."

Ellyria could do nothing but remain on her knees as she stared up at him in wonder.

"Our puppet, Euraxia, commands a legion of soldiers, an army of necromancers, and a horde of undead. Add my dragon brothers and the hopelessness of your cause becomes obvious. You and Abnur Tharn set us free. You released us from the Halls of Colossus. For that, I offer you this one last chance to survive." His eternally dark eyes glared into her very being. "If both you and the battlemage leave Elsweyr, my brothers and I will not hunt you down."

"I want to go with you," she choked out, her voice quieter than a whisper. Everything around her fell away, and all she could see was the dragon before her, the dragon she could _be_ , the dragon her soul longed to inhabit. She was cold scales and burning fire, just as he was. "I'm the Dragonborn – take me with you, Mulaamnir, please."

His laugh was a slap in the face, scalding her deep. It reverberated in the air around them, teasing and belittling her until she was nothing but a lump on the ground. Tears leaked from her eyes without her permission, blurring the sight of him into edgeless swatches of color. Her chest _burned_ with humiliation.

"You would not even be a snack for us, little Dragonborn. A child begging to wear the shoes of her father, and yet being left behind as he leaves for greatness. Peddle with your mortal friends, child. That is all the purpose you will ever serve."

His wings disrupted the air around her, sucking it from her lungs and leaving her gasping as his laugh echoed through the canyon. Shame flooded her once she was alone. She had begged him, from her knees. She, the woman that felled a Daedric prince, _a god_ , had begged from her knees. Alone in the dirt, Ellyria screamed into her fists with frustration. The earth shook beneath her, a subtle reminder of the power given to her by the dragon god, Akatosh. What did it mean to be Dragonborn if the dragons did not want her?

"Five-claw, are you alright?" Khamira asked, hauling Ellyria from the ground by her bicep. "I heard what the dragon said. Perhaps my confidence was a bit misplaced. That creature was much bigger than it appeared when it flew over the camp."

She was unsteady on her feet, ready to keel over with hot and heavy despair roaring within. Instead of giving in, she emptied her face of all but tear stains and turned away from Khamira. Ellyria would not share her shame with this Khajiiti woman she barely knew.

"What happened to the rest of them?" Ellyria asked tightly. Her voice was wavering without her consent.

"They are dead. We must tell Gharesh-ri and Abnur Tharn of this development. You must go ahead to Riverhold."

With her back to Khamira, Ellyria's face crumpled. Her fingers curled into fists as she fought with herself. Why was she a Dragonborn? What should she do next? She had been ready to throw everything away; she was on her knees before him – what now? Mulaamnir dismissed her, and now Khamira was, too. The woman that drove Molag Bal back into Oblivion would not be dismissed by _anyone_.

"No; I'll stay to help you care for the remains of your soldiers," she said quietly. She swallowed hard, thinking back to her time with the caravan of Khajiit she'd once called family. "I've sent several souls to the Sands Behind the Stars, I know how to give last rites."

Khamira didn't have the heart to argue with her. Instead, they walked at pace with one another back into the mine, ready to gather the dead. Ellyria was glad she didn't have to speak. Her voice would be wavering with emotion. She was lost in her thoughts, even as they mounted Sapphire together to ride back to Riverhold. Khamira was warm on the horse behind her, the only anchor she had to the real world. Ellyria was lost, unable to find her way back home.

Abnur could see it on her face. He knew, and she knew he knew. The moons grew higher in the sky as she sat quietly near the meeting of advisors. Even as each of them looked to her for input, she stayed silent staring at the hands folded in her lap. Gharesh-ri was the first to retire, taking Khamira with him to their rooms at the inn. Nala-do was last to leave, insisting on having a concrete plan of action before she retired. Her advisor left at her heels. Still adrift in her mind, Ellyria was startled when Abnur's hand brushed against her shoulder. His skin against hers shocked her into awareness. He was staring down at her, wordless as she struggled to put into words the nasty feelings bubbling inside her head.

"I didn't even think about them. I begged Mulaamnir to take me with him, and I didn't think to give one damn about my children at home. Not them, not my mother, not Raz, not… not you." Her voice was a whisper, loud in her head but soft in the room between them. She felt weak, angry, directionless. She looked up at him, watched as his eyes drifted over her face. "He said… he said I served no purpose. I'm nothing. Not even a snack for my brothers."

The hate festered tightly in her chest, now that she had a name for it. Fire lit her veins alight, scalding her inside and out. She _hated_ Mulaamnir and yet she could not feel it yet, not really. Everything was floating inside of her, too hot and too wet, ready to burst her eyes from her skull with the least bit of pressure.

"What does it mean to be Dragonborn? Why am I here, Abnur?"

"Only you can answer that question, Ellyria. You are the Dragonborn, you are the Vestige, and you are the Champion of Daedra. What that means is for you to decide."

Ellyria's bottom lip trembled, but she didn't allow her face to crumple again. She would not cry in front of Abnur _fucking_ Tharn. Sucking in a shaky breath did nothing to steady her nerves but threading her trembling fingers into his hair did. Kissing him was like swimming – no matter how long it had been, she still knew exactly what to do. She knew each buckle that held his armor, each string that tied his under-tunic on, exactly where to touch to make him groan in her ear. If Abnur was discouraged at the knowledge of her weakness, he didn't show it. His staff clattered to the ground, forgotten in their distraction. His hands pushed away the guilt growing on her skin and gave her something _real_ to focus her wayward thoughts on.

\- - - - - - - - - -

"Make haste for the Desert Wind Adeptorium; I'll ride ahead to Riverhold and warn Gharesh-ri," Abnur shouted over the wind. Sapphire kept pace with Abnur's horse, both beasts cantering down the path out of Rimmen. "If any remain at the Adeptorium, recruit them to the fight."

"Right," Ellyria called back. She hesitated to spur Sapphire any faster. "Abnur – be careful. If they send a dragon –"

"Just go, Ellyria!"

Her heels dug into Sapphire's flank, urging the horse into a gallop. With one hand on the reins, she used her free hand to drag the cloth draped around her neck to cover her nose and mouth. Sand sprayed with the wind. The granules flew into her eyes and hair, blinding her to all but vague shapes and colors. Ellyria pushed her worries for Abnur and Riverhold from her mind, absently pressing her heels harder into Sapphire's sides. The beast's stride increased again, and Ellyria gave the animal her head. They pounded through the dunes of sand, miles disappearing beneath hooves as they crossed the desert. Sapphire heaved with exertion as they slowed to a trot several meters from the edge of the Adeptorium. Foam dripped from her mouth as she threw her head back impatiently.

"Easy, girl," Ellyria soothed patiently, patting the animal's thick neck. She slowed her to a walk, still rubbing and patting and cooing quietly to her. "We're here, girl, we made it."

A sip from her water skin was all Ellyria took, instead dismounting and dumping some of the liquid into her hand for Sapphire to consume. Though it took quite a bit of her water, she needed Sapphire in gallop condition again for the ride to Riverhold. The sun was low on the horizon. It was a stark difference from the beating rays that had been at her back for most of the day. Instead of tethering the horse in the dark, Ellyria draped her reins over the branch of a tree. Should something dangerous approach her in the night, Sapphire would be free to save herself.

Creeping through the darkness was second nature. The sand was soft beneath her boots. Sounds were muffled against the empty dunes around, and dusk gave elongated shadows that hid her from prying eyes. Not for the first time, Ellyria was glad for her dark hair that allowed her to blend in easier. Nocturnal's guiding hand cloaked her in a darkness that she was all too eager to hide in. Dagger in hand, she crept around the edge of the Adeptorium to slip through the vines covering the back entrance.

The Euraxian guarding the mouth of the cave was no match for the armored claws that covered her free hand. With a quick movement, her false claws sliced through the soft skin of the soldier's neck. He gurgled quietly as Ellyria lowered his body to the ground without a sound. She was moving before he was completely dead. There was no time to waste, with the citizens of Riverhold moving closer and closer to a battle. Much of the cave was easy to pass through, with soldiers few and far between. They stood guard at intervals and left their backs open to attack. With either her dagger or her clawed gauntlet, each Euraxian was felled quickly and quietly. Small splashes and smears of blood joined the dry patches that had long since dried since escaping Rimmen under the scrutiny of Euraxia. A shiver ran down her spine as she left another gurgling body at her back. She may not be good enough for the dragons, but she was good enough for _this_.

"Invaders! This one will not allow you to enter this holy place!"

Holding her hands up in the universal sign of peace, Ellyria paused in her steps. "I'm here on behalf of Gharesh-ri. I've come to help." She motioned to the still warm body of the Euraxian at her heels. "Ask any of his dead friends if you don't believe me."

She knew she was a sight to behold, covered in blood and sweat with a dagger in one hand and a daintily forged gauntlet of claws on the other. She wouldn't trust herself either. Yet, Zamarak did not attack.

"The Speaker of the Mane sent you? This one expected we were on our own, what with the dragons and the battles to the north. Zamarak came down here to seal this path, but now he thinks the Euraxians seek the Grand Adept." He glanced past her, tilting his head slightly.

Ellyria leaned back slightly, looking to either end of the path that led her there. They were alone outside of a voice in the chamber further down. Still, she lowered her voice. "What would they want with the Grand Adept?"

"Desert Wind holds many Khajiiti secrets, and the keeper of those secrets is the Grand Adept. If you truly want to help, follow Zamarak to the Grand Adept's chambers."

They were nearly there when the door came down on Zamarak's shoulders. Ellyria rolled beneath the door, slipping her greatsword beneath it to take some of the weight. It groaned with the stress of the stone pressing down. The weapon would not hold long enough for him to escape the crushing stone door on her side.

"Go! This one will find another way!"

The sudden realization of leaving behind a second ally was disconcerting. Would this war be a series of people she left behind? Would any of them live? The water of the pools slapped against her calves, but the boots kept the liquid away from her socks and trousers. Again, Ellyria took a half-moment to appreciate her new armor. At the other end of the pool, there was the mage. She was alone. The expression on the other woman's face told her everything she needed to know before she allowed the taunts to escape.

The Grand Adept was already dead.

Magic crackled in the air between them. The soldier, Lepida, was fast, but not fast enough. The Lightning Storm rattled the stone walls around them moments before it struck Lepida in the chest. The mage was flung back into the stone doors of the Grand Adept's chambers, crumbling against them with the force of it. She sneered up at Ellyria with blood leaking from her mouth in rivulets. Her fingers twitched with the shock still zinging through her body. Not bothering with another spell, Ellyria drew the dagger at her hip.

"What did you want with the Grand Adept?" she demanded quietly. She didn't flinch when the mage spit a mouthful of blood in her face. She was already covered in red, a little more wouldn't matter. "Suit yourself."

Her dagger found a temporary home in the woman's neck before it was tucked away into the sheath at her hip. She pressed through the double doors that opened to the Grand Adept's chambers, watching as the shade of the woman she'd just killed screamed for help. The Grand Adept's body lay a few steps behind her, still and cold. They were far too late.

It wasn't until Zumog Phoom bellowed from the top of the room that Ellyria realized he was there. The man was a shadow among shadows, and her eyes zeroed in on him as the magic lit up the air around him. Lepida's soul was sucked away, along with the location of the Betrayer's body. There was no way to stop him as he slipped through a portal at his back. A sound of frustration escaped Ellyria's throat as she flung her hand upward with a spell at her fingertips. Zamarak burst through the wall across from her as the stream of fire depleted to nothing but heat in the air. She was too late to help the Adeptorium, and if she lingered much longer, she would be too late to help Riverhold. The air in the room was tense with loss for an eternity as Zamarak took heavy steps to the decumbent body between them. Ellyria's bloody hand found Zamarak's shoulder as he knelt next to the Grand Adept. Her voice was soft. She could respect his loss even if it wasn't her own.

"Zamarak, I'm sorry for your loss, but I can't stay. If anyone can be spared to help Riverhold, we must go now."

There was an urgency in her blood, in the blood that she was covered in. How long had she been in the caverns of Desert Wind? It was a half days ride from Rimmen with her horse pacing as quickly as she could, so how long would it take to get to Riverhold? So many uncertainties were tainting her judgment, leaving behind more questions than answers, and a brain that couldn't function with its regular intensity. The yearning for the dragons was still hot and heavy, filling her empty chest with something gritty and dirty. If she could not have them, no one could. If she could not fly, they would not either.

"The Usurper Queen made a mistake when she had the Grand Adept killed." There was a darkness in Zamarak's voice that sang to Ellyria's own. He was angry, just as angry as she. "Whatever they came to find had an unintended consequence. It has roused the students of the desert winds. Zamarak pledges the adepts to Gharesh-ri's cause. Euraxia will fall."

Ellyria nodded her head absently, seeing through him instead of looking at him. She could see how lost he was as he knelt over the Grand Adept's body. The lines of loss, of grief, of uselessness were dug into him as the Ashen Scar dug through Anequina. A kinship would bloom between them, should they ever have the time to really look at one another. The same swell of hate festered in them both, burning from the inside out. Swallowing was hard when her eyes were stinging so sharply.

"Bring the adepts to Riverhold. I'll ride ahead to let Gharesh-ri know to expect you."

Long strides carried Ellyria through the remainder of the Adeptorium. She passed the Khajiit that called the place home, watching as they patched one another up and pressed warm hands of understanding onto the shoulders of those they cared for. She didn't linger to watch. It was well into the night by the time she swung herself onto Sapphire's back. There was no hesitation as she spurned her into another gallop. The horse could rest when she did, which she knew would be no time soon.


	5. Chapter 5

The ground beneath Riverhold shook as Bahlokdaan's massive head slammed down. He grew unnaturally still for a few long moments before his scales began to flake off like ash floating in the wind. The essence of him left nothing but a pile of bones in the shape of a beast. Instead, the golden shimmer slammed into Ellyria's chest, scalding her organs and taking the air from her lungs. Unable to breathe or scream, she fell to her knees, heaving up stomach acid and water. The dragon's blood was still hot on her skin. The smell of death wafted into her nose, gagging her even when there was nothing left to vomit. Grateful to be behind the wall surrounding the center of Riverhold, she was out of sight from all as they watched Khamira announce herself as the Queen of Anequina. Being seen was the last thing on her mind, though, as tears cleaned streaks of flesh from beneath the blood and gore caked on her face. The dragon's soul had been a whisper until it was a roar as it swept into her. The unbridled agony had spread from the tip of her toes to the ends of each strand of hair. There was no cleansing or relief or air until the world went dark around her. So _that_ was the purpose of a Dragonborn, to take that fury and hold it within, to let it burn her out so that maybe the world wouldn't have to burn, too.

It was dark when her eyes opened again. The only light came from a cluster of candles on the desk across the room. Abnur sat, quill in hand and sans armor, with a face devoid of a frown. Ellyria took the moment to watch him, the way his fingers wrapped around the quill and the way his eyes would track the letters as he scribbled them onto the paper. Every few minutes, his nose would twitch as if it itched and he would sniff slightly. She'd forgotten how much she missed just seeing him exist. Her adventures had taken her away from his side, and yet they now brought them back together. Razum-dar's face drifted into her mind's eye, his expression soft and open and filling her thoughts with guilt. She had a lover and a home and a family in Auridon. Why was she filled with ill-content at the thought of staying there, with the thought of being away from Abnur Tharn?

"How do you feel?" Abnur's voice drifted across the room gruffly. He signed the letter with a flourish before putting the quill down to look at her. "We found you unconscious in a puddle of your own vomit."

A sigh pressed its way through her lips. _Of course_ , that's how they found her. "I absorbed the dragon's soul after it was dead. It hurt. It still hurts."

Abnur's arms crossed against his chest as he turned fully toward her. "Do you feel any differently than before?"

"I feel hot on the inside; like it's burning, but it doesn't hurt exactly. I just, I know it's there. I know _he's_ there, Bahlokdaan. And I know where Mulaamnir and Khalgrontiid are, and the rest of my – _their_ – brothers are. I can feel them stronger than before."

The room was silent for a while, leaving Ellyria to stew in the realization of how things would change for her again. What would this do to her? What would happen now that Bahlokdaan was a part of her? She could feel his soul nesting inside of her, pushing out everything else to make himself fit. So many questions swirled in her head and in her heart. She wondered what her children would think, what Raz would think. She wondered what Abnur thought. She would never dare to ask him.

"I had Khamira help clean you up and divest you of arms and armor. The barmaid is cleaning them now, for a hefty fee, of course. What happened at the Adeptorium?" Trust Abnur to change the subject just when she needed it the most. They were well versed in avoiding the important things, after all.

"The Euraxians had infested the place like skeevers. They were as easy to kill, too. Zumog Phoom has the location of the Betrayer, but we didn't find out where that is."

Abnur nodded absently as he listened, moving to gather his things into a neat pile on the desk. The sight brought a smile to her face. He was always so meticulous. It was so easy to frustrate him with even the slightest bit of clutter in his workspace. Ellyria watched as he pushed in the chair before he slid into the bed next to her. The sheets were cold. She knew because he drew up next to her, searching for her heat like a moth to the flame. Abnur was a cuddly bastard. Her smile fell from her lips once her face was hidden against the shirt covering his chest. Razum-dar was a cuddly bastard, too.

"Rest, Ellyria; this war is far from over."

She wished for a few moments that she'd never met either of them. Then her heart started beating again, longing for them both.

\- - - - -

Sweat poured down her face, smearing with the blood that ran in rivulets into her eye. With one squinting and the other blurry with fatigue, Ellyria swung her sword again to knock Euraxia's staff to the side. Without waiting for her to recover, Ellyria spun her hand in quick succession, calling upon the sky to shower the palace courtyard with lightening. Euraxia deflected the lightening with one hand, swinging her staff in Ellyria's direction with the other. The spell went off-kilter, sliding by Ellyria by a hair's breadth. _Finally_ , Euraxia was open. Both arms were splayed out in different directions, leaving her chest a visible target. A mighty shove and a grunt of effort had Ellyria's sword crunching through bone and organs and bone again, jutting out of both sides of Euraxia's chest. She didn't stop shoving until the hilt of her sword was flush against flesh. A gasping noise came through the usurper queen's gaping jaw. A mouthful of blood spilled down her chin to drip onto Ellyria's hands that were still clutching her sword. Making eye contact with the dying woman brought a sick sense of joy to Ellyria's foul soul, singing to the dragon within like a hymn to Akatosh. Euraxia's staff clattered to the ground, a noise that mocked her with its familiarity. The choking woman was lowered to the ground as she went limp. Without waiting for her to die, Ellyria pressed her foot hard onto Euraxia's chest, dragging the sword out of the usurper's body with a wet squelch. Slowly, the world around her began to filter back into her perception.

Turning her back, Ellyria didn't bother to linger. She strode past Abnur as he heaved the still distraught Khamira up from her knees. Nala-do's body lay unnaturally still in the courtyard, along with the young queen's long-dead parents. The fight sang in her blood, leaving her feeling empty without another foe to battle. The new feeling that relished in the kill, that roared with pleasure at the sight of spraying blood and gore, was unfamiliar and frightening. It made her fingers tingle and her toes curl within her boots. In the thick of battle, she wasn't sure she would have known who was a friend and who was foe. Instead of lingering there, she would tell Gharesh-ri that the war against Euraxia was over. The Khajiit were free. With blood on her blade and blood on her skin, she wondered if she would ever be free, too. She wondered if she would ever be able to drop the shackles of destiny that held her so tightly. By the time she reached the inside of the palace, the gash along her forehead had healed shut. Bahlokdaan's soul laughed as it slithered deeper inside of her, his claws digging into her heart like a vice.

\- - - - -

Zamarak and Ellyria worked in tandem like a well-oiled set of cogs. They crept through the Dov-Vahl Shrine with silent steps, dancing around traps and dropping assassin bodies like flesh flies. With the urgency pressing them forward, Ellyria didn't stop to think about the pleasure of the kill that was still purring away in her chest. Having Bahlokdaan's soul was like having someone else in her body, watching and waiting for her to slip and fall and die, but still laughing at her expense when she did not. It spurned the anger in her veins and hatred in her soul, heating her from the inside out with dragon-fire. Certainly, the Dragonguard would be able to help her. They were the _Dragonguard_ , they _had_ to know something. Though it was unlikely, Ellyria hung onto that tiny flicker of hope as she sliced deep into Saulinia's throat. Her sword hit the solid bone of her spine, reverberating up her arm and into her shoulder with the force of it.

Dragonguard Orland sat in a pool of his own blood, limp with exertion. His chest was heaving ever so slightly. Each breath was likely his last as Ellyria made her way closer. With each step, heat swirled beneath her skin, healing the burns and scrapes sustained in the fight.

"Damn assassin – she knew her stuff. I saw her fall, though, so thanks for that," Orland choked out around labored breathing. "After all these years, why do I suddenly have so much company?"

With Zamarak at her shoulder, Ellyria hesitated to ask her questions. Zamarak read her reluctance in the lines of her body and the sharp glance sent from her incredibly blue eyes. Under the guise of pacing, he stepped away without a word. She knelt on the ground, drawing close to Orland and sending a wandering eye over his injuries. He was far beyond the healing abilities of either she or Zamarak. The only thing keeping his insides _in_ was the armor strapped to his waist.

"The dragons have returned to Tamriel. The Usurper Queen Euraxia sent the assassination squad to ensure there was no one left to stop them," Ellyria explained quietly.

"I know about the dragons – I sent word to the other sanctuaries." Each word was harder than the last. The sweat was dripping down his forehead, smearing with blood and tears and snot on his face. "There is at least one other – he'll come; he has to."

Dying was ugly. Ellyria pressed soft fingers against his neck. Healing Hands threaded into his skin, soft and slow, just enough to ease the pain of breathing. The soft hum of magic filled the air around them. Orland relaxed, ever so slightly, as he was relieved of the sharpest part of agony.

"Take my ring. It will open the sanctuary that holds the Dragonhorn."

Ellyria nodded, though she knew he wouldn't see. His eyes were fluttering closed, each time staying shut longer than the last. "Orland – what is the purpose of the Dragonborn? Why do the dragons spurn her?"

His chest heaved slowly. Orland was dying beneath her hand. Despite this, she knew he would answer if he was able. The blood puddling beneath him had stopped spreading as his heart began to slow.

"The dragons spurn her because – because she – she is the death of them. She is the one – the one that is meant to kill him. The Dragonborn – Alduin's bane – the slayer of Destroyer of Worlds," Orland choked out. Ellyria caught his head with her hand, steadying it instead of allowing him to slump over. "The Dragonborn is the – the last hope of – of humanity when he returns. The final sacrifice, Akatosh's favored child."

Ellyria's heart stuttered to a stop in time with his. Swallowing down her vomit was the hardest thing she'd ever done. Burning with unshed tears, she let her eyes flutter shut for only a moment. Her purpose was to kill _Alduin_ , whose return was foretold in the songs of old. Alduin was a legend, a _story_ meant to scare the children of Tamriel. Frustration bloomed to life in her mouth. A snarl of frustration left her lips as she dropped the Dragonguard's head. His body slid to the ground with nothing left to hold it up. _Alduin_ – what a load of horse shit.

"What did he say?" Zamarak questioned, walking up to her with purpose.

Fingers shaking with all manner of angry things, Ellyria lashed out with her fists. The rotting wood of a barrel caved beneath her hands. All things would turn to dust in the wake of her anger. Her foot was next, striking out to obliterate the remaining shell of the container.

"Ellyria – what did he say?" Zamarak asked more forcefully.

Her head shook as she turned to face him. Hot, viscous anger was rushing through her, into her fingers, into her throat, begging to be released from her mouth and sword. She would bring the Dov-Vahl Sanctuary down on top of them should she release her feelings audibly.

"Take his ring," she snapped, motioning idly to the dead man on the ground. "He said it would open the sanctuary, and there we would find the Dragonhorn."

When Zamarak disappeared through the door to head back to the sanctuary, Ellyria's rage squeezed from her like puss. A growl of frustration heralded the magic that burned Orland's body to a pile of dust and charred bones.

\- - - - -

Ellyria could feel the dragon soaring above the Shadow Dance Ruins, even as she and Khamira crept deeper into the tomb. The energy of spirits thrummed all around them. They were just as solid as the living in the place their lives were torn so violently from them. She was agitated and tired and worried, unable to do anything other than pace when she could be resting, unable to think of anything other than the legend of Alduin. The Dragonguard was supposed to explain her purpose, not confuse her more. Abnur's voice of reason danced in her head, still spinning from the night before.

" _Just because Alduin is a legend now, does not mean it will always remain that way. Kunzar-ri was a Khajiiti legend and yet we are following his footsteps into reality._ "

Her worry for his well-being at the surface stung in her chest like a poison.

Killing Zumog Phoom had furthered her craving for blood. It was startling how much she longed for the fight, for the threat of death as she stayed a few steps behind Khamira's lead. There was something else growing in her lungs, something like strength and something like desire, begging for more and reaching out greedy hands ready to snatch it up. Something had changed in her from the moment Bahlokdaan had invaded her body. Ellyria was hard-pressed to figure out exactly what it was that she needed more of. An insatiable lust for the touch of another had welled within, leaving her drowning in Abnur each opportunity they made. And yet, there was more she needed – a burning inside of her that screamed for more, more, _more_ – and she would be at a loss for what it was for an eternity in her mind. It was days before she would sleep more than a few moments on the back of a horse, and as her mind grew hazier and hazier with exhaustion, the line between reality and legend seemed to blur even more. Who was the Dragonborn? Who was Alduin? Who was _she_? As Khamira welcomed her own destiny as the ancestor of Anequina, Ellyria longed to accept herself without question, just as the queen did at her side.

She rode into death's maw with Abnur Tharn at one side and Khamira to the other, just as they rode into the Halls of Colossus so many months before. This time, though, the burning in her chest was welcomed. Ellyria was no longer afraid of the feelings within. She could feel the dragons soaring around the Moon-Gate, waiting with bated breath for it to slide open before the false eclipse. Jode's core was beautiful. It was a shame they couldn't linger to admire it. At the urging of Bahlokdaan's soul and her own, she was ruthless in the way she cut down all between her and the core. Each life that fell to her blade or her magic or her hands spurred her on, even when she felt the stares of Abnur and Khamira burning into her back. Ellyria's roar of triumph made the ground beneath them tremble in time with Mulaamnir's body falling limp. When his soul flaked from his body and rushed into her own, she knew what the _more_ was – power. She wanted more power, and she would _take_ it if she had to. Kaalgrontiid's eyes fell on her. She was invincible, even beneath his eyes filled with corpses.

"You are the Dragonborn, little morsel," he intoned lowly, still drunk on the power from the core beneath him. "We would have you as our own, should you ask it of us."

Covered in blood and carnage and fury, she lifted her chin in the face of her brother. "I begged for a place with you once. I'll not be so stupid again. Your life is forfeit if you remain on Nirn."

Kaalgrontiid's laugh cut her to the core. The sound shook the very air around her, cutting through the dragon's soul, _her_ soul, and digging straight into her heart. Rage surged under her skin, and the roar that escaped her throat was bone-shattering in its intensity. Beneath the sound, she knew he would recognize the dragon words. Taught to her by the Graybeards, Ellyria thought she would never need to use them. She had never imagined seeing the fruition of her dragon's soul, had written it off as superstition. Then, the dragons came to fracture her very being. Two years learning on the mountain would be very handy for when she slaughtered them all. Kaalgrontiid's head flung back with the force of it, and he released a shout of his own that opened the heavens above them. Thunder rumbled above, speckled with lightning that struck the ground before the rain beat down in a torrent. Abnur's shield erected around him and Khamira to protect them from it. Ellyria felt empty as she watched Kaalgrontiid fly away.

Her knees hit the stone beneath her amidst the unnatural storm, and _finally_ , she knew her purpose. Ellyria, the Dragonborn, would purge Kaalgrontiid from the face of Nirn, and remind every dragon left why the legends of old named her Slayer of Alduin. She had that, she had her answers, her reasons. And yet, she asked herself why she still felt like nothing.


	6. Chapter 6

With hair still damp from the bathhouse, Ellyria sat at the edge of the bed with her elbows resting on her knees. The fire in her veins and in her lungs had cooled once out of the desperation of a battle to the death. She ignored the burning in her eyes. There was no reason to cry. Even as she reassured herself of this, the tears leaked down her cheeks. There was a purpose for her, a propulsive force filling her body. So many more dragon souls were waiting for her to consume them, ready to give her all the power in the universe. She desired it, lusted for it, _craved_ the burn of another soul streaming into her life force. When Abnur cracked open the door without knocking, Ellyria swallowed harshly. What would he think? If word got out from him or Khamira, what would the rest of the world think? Or more importantly, her children and Razum-dar – would they care for her still? Would they still accept her, even as the power-hungry monster she was becoming?

Ellyria watched as he divested himself of armor, slowly but surely making his way through the room toward her bed despite having a room to himself the next door down. Not that it had been used for most of their time in Elsweyr. His hands were gentle, more than they had ever been, as he pulled her face up and wiped her tears with his thumbs. She swallowed again, ignoring the lump that was growing in her throat. It was easy to fall back into the sensual routine with him, easy to maintain the personal and political separation they employed in Cyrodiil, easy to forget the ways they wronged each other in the light of day and in the dark of night. She'd _missed_ him before this, missed the idea of him. She didn't realize just how much until she had him again. She missed Razum-dar, too, but the guilt was easy to ignore when Abnur was touching her so softly. When her eyes fluttered shut, she could almost imagine hands covered in fur instead.

What would be left for her when the dragons were all dead? Would she still be Ellyria, or would she continue to grow into something else, something dark and evil? Did it even matter?

"I need to check in on my family before we continue following Kaalgrontiid." Her voice was quiet, unwilling to disturb the stillness of the room. Her fingers brushed against the gray hair on his chest, keeping her eyes away from his face. She would give him no indication that she was thinking of Razum-dar instead of him. "We've sent letters, but six months is a long time to be away from them when they have no other but me."

"If you must, do so with haste."

That was it. No more was said as they lay together in the dark. When Ellyria's eyes started to burn with tears again, she couldn't for the life of her figure out why.

\- - - - -

The wayshrine of Auridon was empty when she emerged into view. On her own feet, Ellyria started the walk to her townhouse, relishing the calm and quiet night. The air was cool on her skin and the light of the moons was gently lighting the streets. Dragons spun in her awareness, much farther away, though their pull on her had yet to fade in its intensity. Living with it would not be the hard part, she knew. It would be living without that would hurt. Even so, she longed for the kill. They would die for her offense, even if it killed her, too. The house was dark as she approached the front doors. Creeping inside with ease, Ellyria drifted across the floors with the silent steps of a specter. Sarelia, Adrian, Evelyn, and Navarre all slept comfortably in beds, free of worry or guilt or pain or hate.

Ellyria had asked for such a life of turmoil, and yet, what she wouldn't give to have her sweet roll and eat it, too. Her home and her family were beautiful, logical, easy. It was the dirty, ugly drive toward adventure that pulled her heart away from Auridon. As she ascended the steps to her loft, it was a shock to see a Khajiit shaped body lying in her bed. Swallowing around the lump in her throat, she wondered if Razum-dar would smell Abnur on her even after bathing. Paranoia was creeping into her head. _He would know_ , it whispered. _He'll cast you out of his bed and his heart_. With trembling hands, Ellyria stripped her armor away, laying each piece neatly on the chair before her vanity. It wasn't until she was halfway between the sheets of her bed that Razum-dar stirred slightly from sleep, drawing her closer until she was snuggly against his chest.

"You stink of magic," he rumbled groggily, "but this one is glad you are safe."

Her crying was soft enough that it didn't wake him further. If he noticed the stench of death and despair on her or the wetness of tears in his fur, he didn't mention it.

Ellyria had only allotted herself three days to spend in Auridon, and she intended on making the most of it. Filled with excitement, Adrian and Sarelia were at her heels from the moment she'd descended the stairs. It wasn't until the midday meal that she got even a second to breathe on her own.

"What were you doing here, in my bed without me?" Ellyria asked teasingly, bumping her shoulder into Razum-dar's. They watched as Sarelia and Adrian sparred on the terrace, both far more advanced in skill than she expected them to be. They were very quick learners. "I wasn't expecting you."

Razum-dar's head turned away from her, eyes drifting up to the sky. She wondered what expression he wore. "Raz prefers to find the most comfortable bed to sleep in. Sometimes he is in yours and sometimes he is not."

Though it wasn't said like an accusation, she felt like it was. Ellyria hesitated before saying anything. What could she say? What right did she have to tell him where he should spend his nights when hers were spent with another? She wondered if it had always been so hard to breathe. Grunts from the children filled the air. A whoosh of air was sent from Adrian's lungs when Sarelia planted a kick square in his chest. He stumbled back, unable to recover before her training sword smacked him flat across the abdomen. Ellyria was proud to see Sarelia with such talent. She extended a hand down, eager to help her brother up to go another round. They tossed down the training swords to trade for fists only.

Fur brushed softly against the skin of her calf as she sorted through the dresses hanging in her wardrobe. With most of her days spent in armor or trousers, Ellyria was at a loss to what to wear when she didn't need either. The velvet material felt fake on her skin. Like playing dress-up, the cloth felt like a lie. There were more than enough lies in her life. The thought of putting on a pretty dress to be a pretty girl filled her mind with frustration. She was a warrior, not a woman. Her eyes burned with tears of frustration. Scoffing quietly to herself, she felt like her eyes would never be dry again. Every day brought a new set of tears, a new wave of anger, a new mouthful of lies, each worse than the last. Razum-dar's tail curled around her ankle before his hand found her elbow. The tears spilled over before she could stop them. So much was happening on top of her. Dragons were decimating Elsweyr and she was _home_ trying to pick a _dress_ for a _walk around town_. It was all too much. Ellyria ripped her arm away from Razum-dar, stumbling back with the force of it. She flung the door of the wardrobe closed with a slam. Pacing to the other side of the room still didn't give her enough distance. Instead of running, her fingers pressed into her eyes to stop the flow of tears even as she sucked in a wavering breath.

"I can't fucking do this," she whispered to herself.

Sinking down onto the edge of the bed felt like giving up. She wished she'd never met Abnur Tharn, or Razum-dar, or the Graybeards, or anyone else. She wished she'd never stepped through the portal that dragged her from Aldmeris and into the strange dangers of Tamriel. Dragging her hands down her face, she realized what exactly she would give to be _home_ instead of in this place with this weight on her shoulders. Where was home to her, though? Ellyria was disappointed with the knowledge that even she didn't know where home was, much less what it would feel like to be there. Aldmeris was a city of steel and glass, abandoned to men by the Altmer of old. It was a city of technology, not magic. They were beholden to no gods, and yet she'd come to Tamriel and fought a being she wasn't meant to believe in and worshipped gods she'd never known could be real. She was a being of legend herself, and not even the legends of her own origins. She wasn't meant to be _here_. She was meant to be _there_ , skirting through life without much of anything while waiting for her children to marry and move out so she could be alone again, working herself to death. A weight settled on her shoulders, attentive and warm. Razum-dar guided her head to rest against his shoulder, lending silent support.

"What troubles you, sugar paws?"

Her lip trembled when her mouth tried to work. A sniff broke through the silence as she tried to gather her thoughts into words. Defeat slumped her shoulders. What could she say to someone who's loyalty did not lie with her? And yet what could she say to the man whose loyalty lay only with himself? Stuck – she was stuck, and she knew it. With no one to confide in, she would contain it all until she burst. The walls would be painted with her blood and brain when she ceased to function. Pulled between Razum-dar and Abnur Tharn would be where she met the end of her own sanity.

"I can't – I can't tell you," she finally said.

Ellyria felt him sigh. The breath escaped him silently. She knew he wouldn't push her, and yet it still made the guilt surge into her heart. There was only so much she could hold within, so much she could handle alone. Even the Dragonborn was still only human. Feeling pathetic, she cried softly into her hands. She was genuinely surprised when Razum-dar didn't leave. Instead, he pulled her closer, content to sit quietly while she fell apart at his side.

"You cannot tell Razum-dar, but maybe you can tell just Raz," he offered quietly, his voice barely audible over her own quiet noises of despair. She could hear him swallow, could feel his uncertainty. "Raz is here for Ellyria, even if Razum-dar has a duty to Queen Ayrenn."

Her heart urged her to speak, desperate to give itself to someone when she felt like she had no one. Her mind, ever logical, kept her lips sealed. He would turn on her, just as Varen had, just as Abnur had, just as Mannimarco had. She was tired of betrayal, tired of betraying and being betrayed. She was sick of the lies and the deceit. She was tired of being the puppet of destiny, controlled by the strings of other people and beings. And yet, even as she decided to stay quiet, to tell him nothing of consequence, her mouth was following her heart without her consent. Staring off into nothing with unblinking eyes, her thoughts veered in a desperate direction, unable to be stopped.

"I wish I had never met Abnur Tharn," she mumbled darkly. "He's been ruining my life from the moment he walked into it. And now I'm going to lose you because of him, if I ever had you in the first place. And all of this is all my fault."

Razum-dar was silent, and for that, she was thankful. Ellyria didn't know if she could continue if he began to speak. It was _hard_ to say the words floating in her mind, especially when she knew she was making a mistake. The Queen would hear her truth, but not from her, and then she would ride off into the sunset to fight more dragons and leave her family behind again at the mercy of those around them.

"I am born from Aldmeris, not Cyrodiil. I was brought here by accident nearly thirteen years ago by Abnur Tharn in a portal accident. I'm not who or what you think I am, Raz. I'm the Dragonborn." Her voice was a whisper until she fell silent, waiting with bated breath for a response, waiting for him to leave. When he didn't even breathe, the words began to tumble forth like vomit. "I begged the dragons to take me, to let me be at their side. I'd have burned the world to soar through the sky with them, just once. It was all I could do in the face of their greatness, and yet, they spurned me. They turned me away, swatted me back like a fleshfly. Now, I'm going to kill each and every one, steal each and every soul they possess. I will hunt Kaalgrontiid to the edges of Tamriel and beyond if need be, until I have his skull to mount on my wall. A beast will not scorn me and live to tell the tale."

The tears were hot like the hatred that burned within as they slipped off her chin. A heavy sniff filled the air as she waited to hear his response. When nothing came, Ellyria didn't bother to glance up at him. She knew what to expect. He would leave, and she would be left alone with her children and her mother and her obligations to save the world _again_. The cycle was becoming old at best and exhausting at worst. Restless, Ellyria surged to her feet. Desperation swept through her when Razum-dar only watched her move with a vacant expression. It was so different from the soft way his gaze fell on her before. If he would not react, she would twist the knife that she'd driven into him.

"I kissed him first this time. And now I don't know how to stop." Her lip trembled and her voice wavered with the lump in the back of her throat. Her vision blurred with the fresh set of water that would stream from her eyes. "I don't know how to choose you, even though I love you. I don't know how to _stop_ , Raz, even though I am so in love with you."

The silence was thick between them for too long. Razum-dar stood from his seat without a word. She heard him swallow tightly, heard his labored breath, felt his hesitation as his clawed hand reached for her ever so slightly. Her own fingers twitched to grab him, to catch him before he could leave. Then he was gone, slipping down the stairs with the soft steps of a thief. She knew it was coming. She knew it was going to happen, as soon as she forced out the words. And yet, it still hurt _so goddamn bad_. Instead of three days, her reprieve was over in the hours of a half a day as she tugged on her armor and left her family with a note at the table. Upon hearing the laughter of Sarelia and Adrian and Evelyn and Navarre on the terrace, she knew she wouldn't be missed.

The dragons within her roared in delight at her misery.


	7. Chapter 7

The days bled into weeks as Ellyria spent her time at the Dragonguard sanctuary in Pelletine. Despite knowing Sai Sahan from her days of studying necromancy under Mannimarco and then again when killing him, she preferred to keep to herself once they had established a wary peace with Nahfahlaar. The dragon quickly became her favorite being to speak with. Intelligent and peaceful, he was _different_ from the rest of the dragons she'd had the displeasure of meeting. And when he spoke to her with respect, it soothed the scuff on her soul put there by the scorn of Mulaamnir and Kaalgrontiid. Her dragon's soul preened with pleasure as she formed a kinship with him. This dragon, and _only_ this dragon, she would spare in her purge. Even so, she did not divest her status of Dragonborn to any of the newly formed Guard. The only truth she had learned from Orland was that they knew nothing of her purpose, and she had no reason to tell them of the purpose she'd made for herself. Her hands and mind were kept busy, far too busy to dwell on the growing pile of unopened letters from those she'd left behind in Auridon. Instead of thinking, she trained her body with Sai Sahan. Just as her children were quick studies, so was she.

"Abnur Tharn has sent word about a threat to Southern Elsweyr. His letter indicates that you and he have worked together recently. He thinks very highly of you." Sai Sahan ignored the quiet scoff that escaped her throat. "Someday you must tell me how you accomplished that."

A nasty snarl of "you don't _really_ want to know" died on her lips before it could emerge. With a clenched jaw, Ellyria nodded for him to continue.

"The old snake says we have important business to discuss, and he's bringing a friend. He didn't elaborate on either topic." A man like Sai Sahan didn't know hesitance, so when his words didn't fall from his mouth easily, the hair on Ellyria's arms stood on end. "Between Tharn's cryptic letter and Nahfahlaar's strange mood, I'm feeling uneasy myself."

"Go, ready the sanctuary for Abnur's arrival," Ellyria said. Her distaste would remain internal, ready to fade away the moment she saw the man in question, just as it always did. Clenching her fists, her teeth ground together. _No_. This time, things would be different. "There's no doubt that the friend he speaks of is Queen Khamira of Anequina. I will speak with Nahfahlaar before I join you inside."

Sai Sahan passed her in the doorway without another word, leaving Ellyria and Nahfahlaar in the courtyard alone. Her mind was spinning in place, unable to get past the thought of seeing Abnur again. The phantom brush of his thumbs wiping at the tears on her face made her skin flush with anger. How dare he treat her so softly? How dare he treat her with kindness, with respect and adoration? Even when it should fall short with insincerity, even as he betrayed her trust and her heart, she crumbled into him each time. The past stung beneath her skin, ripping into her insides.

"Come, little dragon – let us speak," Nahfahlaar called, lowering his massive head to be level with her. Ellyria pushed her fingers into her eyes, relishing in the dull ache that would distract her. "I sense a darkness, perhaps an absence of light. It sets my scales on edge."

"Is your feeling related to the letter Sai Sahan received?" she questioned carefully, tiredly. "Or is there more that is to come?"

"My feeling is my own, little dragon. It grew from a tickle behind my broken horn when the fool of a battlemage opened the Halls of Colossus." A sliver of guilt crept up from her stomach. She'd had a hand in that, too. Nahfahlaar was too quick to name her blameless. "Now it swirls like a black storm around me. Quite unpleasant."

Ellyria felt the prickle on her skin barely a second before the distinct scent of portal magic filled her nose. She and Nahfahlaar turned in tandem to see Abnur Tharn, in all his _glory_ , step through the portal with Khamira at his heels. Her voice was a groan as she complained loudly about the headache that thrummed in her head. Ellyria knew the feeling, though it was not from portal magic. It was Sai Sahan that saved her from having to speak with them first.

"Abnur Tharn, you arrogant, vexatious, son of a bleary-eyed –" A smile pulled at Ellyria's lips, for once at Abnur's expense.

"Save your posturing, Sai, I've missed you too. But we have a bigger problem to deal with," Abnur interrupted. The tone in his voice was one she'd not heard often before, even with the fate of Nirn slipping between their fingers. "I've found Kaalgrontiid and pieced together his ultimate plan."

With grinding teeth and clenched fists, hate swelled in Ellyria's stomach. The dragon fire lit her insides on fire at the mention of Kaalgrontiid. He could fancy himself a god, maybe, but he wouldn't be the first god for her to send to his knees. The anticipation would kill her quicker than he would.

"Easy, little dragon," Nahfahlaar purred lowly behind her. "Four have fallen to your sword – do not fall on it yourself when the end is so near."

A deep breath in, a deep breath out – she didn't know why she ever thought that would help. There was no fear in her blood, only the desperate need to prove herself as worthy to those that had dismissed her. Even at the cost of her own life. The thought spurred to life a warm arm around her shoulders and the soft fur of a tail wound around her ankle. It brought the soft, young faces of Sarelia and Adrian to her mind. Her mother's frown and Navarre's quiet support were burning as she thought of them for the first time in days. This could be her end, _the end_ , should she fail to slaughter the strongest of her brothers. She _would not_ fail, for herself and for her children and for Razum-dar and Evelyn and Abnur and Nirn. It was fighting Molag Bal all over again, she realized later. And one god was just like all the others – infallible until they weren't, infallible until they met her sword. _She_ would be the god-killer of the ages, ready to meet destiny with the sharp end of her sword instead of crumbling to it like a coward. Destiny would bow to _her_.

With dragon blood in her veins and steel in her bones, Ellyria did her best to cast all other things from her mind to focus on the task at hand.

\- - - - -

In all the ways she had seen Abnur, weak was not one of them. Another to add to the list, she supposed silently. It was with worry that she grabbed his bicep. He had been sturdy despite his faults and age for the past thirteen years. Seeing him with the labored breath and sweaty brow of an old man was never a way that she had imagined him. Being an old man was never something that would happen to Abnur Tharn, Grand Chancellor and Great Imperial Battlemage, Overlord of Nibenay and all the other titles he'd scrounged up for himself.

"Stay behind me and be silent," she murmured, careful not to look him in the eye. If she looked him in the eye, each piece of her that cared for him would bubble up to the surface. "You're in no condition to fight."

Her heart stuttered when he didn't deny it. Why wouldn't he deny it? Where was his masquerade, his arrogance? Why was his gloved hand pressing gently over her own? Swallowing past the lump in her throat, Ellyria brushed past him to continue into the Dragonhold ruins. Bodies dropped in her wake as the ceiling shook above them and the ground rattled beneath them. A silent hush warred with the thrum of power brewing around them. It wasn't until they discovered the ritual sights that she felt her own power spark to life beneath her flesh.

"Go, I will follow!"

Lightning crackled at her fingertips, releasing with loud screeches as she slid to her knees beneath a battle axe. Wisps of dark hair floated to the ground in her wake. The Khajiit axe wielder followed up with another wild swing as his fellow cultists dropped dead around him. Clangs echoed through the room when their weapons connected again and again. The instinct of the dragon left her body scrambling to keep up as the fight turned into a vicious dance to the death. Then, she was doused in a spray of blood. His pulse covered her once, twice, three times before his knees hit the stone floor and he was dead. Abnur followed moments later drawing power from the humming green stones.

"Are you sure that's safe?" she asked, chest heaving with the effort of breathing. The dragon kept her young, but it did not keep her from being winded. She felt _alive_ knowing death's axe had trimmed her hair and nearly her head only minutes before. Life and fear and the rush of nearly dying thrummed in her veins.

"I'm sure that I'll regret it later," he responded dryly.

A delirious sort of laugh escaped. Her hair was a wild mess of blood and bits of flesh, and her skin was seared in some places from the magic flung in her direction. She knew she looked a mess, but it didn't matter. She was her, and he was him, and here they were again, exploring derelict ruins to stop the end of the world.

"Let's go, we'll regret it all when we get to the bottom of a few bottles of whiskey after this."

It was only a short while later that she would catch his weakened body before it hit the ground. Savagely wounded, Joorahmaar flung himself into the sky to escape them even as Abnur could no longer stand. With trembling fingers, Ellyria lowered Abnur into a sitting position on the stone floor. They didn't stop the ritual in time, she realized bleakly, and those bottles of whiskey would have to wait. The ground was trembling in earnest now, rattling around them as dust peppered their hair. Stone grinding against stone filled her ears. The walls would come down on top of them. Abnur's strength waned as he dropped the island's defense. Ellyria kept him at her back and Joorahmaar at her front, keeping his attention centered on her. His dragon fire washed over her, leaving no burns. The souls scorching within her protected their flesh prison, lending her the magic that once flowed in their own vessels. Violence tore from her voice and lined the edge of her sword until he was falling, crashing, unnaturally still. When his soul peeled back the flesh of his body and turned it to dust around his bones, Ellyria was _ready_ , on her knees before him with arms lifted toward Akatosh. _She_ was the favored child, and _she_ would take the power these little morsels could give. An incredible hush fell around her, blanketing all noise in her ears as she was again filled with life at another death. Drunk on it, she nearly missed Abnur's yell and Kaalgrontiid's thundering laugh.

"You think you are a dragon child, but you are mistaken! You may have the soul of a dragon but I will be a _god_!" Kaalgrontiid's wings spread open in a show of intimidation, not faltering even when her burning eyes glared into him.

"You won't be the first god I've bested, Kaalgrontiid, and I'm sure you will not be the last!"

Abnur's call of her name snapped her from her haze of destructive provocation. He was on the ground, looking every bit the feeble old man of 167 years. Her heart shattered to pieces in her chest, but the feeling was dulled against the rush of rage that followed Kaalgrontiid's position in the sky.

"Come on," Ellyria snapped as she dragged him to his feet. His height made it difficult to support his weight, but she managed to mostly drag him as they moved as quickly as possible. "Don't give out on me, Abnur – I can't let Kaalgrontiid kill us both."

They lurched to a stop when his arm jerked away from her supportive shoulders. He stumbled but didn't fall. Fingers curled around her bicep with purpose as his other hand began to spark with magic.

" _You will not die here_ ," he demanded sharply. "Go through this portal, gather the Dragongaurd and Khamira. I will be ready when you return."

"I won't leave you." Ellyria planted her feet, unwilling to move even as the ceilings began to drop dust and stones all around them.

"Yes, you will, or we'll both die, and all will be lost." His hand left her arm to brush against her face. Ever so gently, his thumb caressed her cheekbone. "Go, quickly. Don't keep me waiting."

Her heart was racing as she slipped through the portal. She knew that Abnur had no plans on leaving Dragonhold alive. She would just have to drag him living and breathing from the ruins herself. Khamira met her halfway down the stairs, clawed hands reaching out to catch her when she stumbled. They stood close, at ease with the closeness of one another in the face of certain death. They had faced it side-by-side more than once. Ellyria hoped that the third time would be the charm, and they could meet as friends instead of allies.

"How did the Dragon's Island get into the sky? And where is Tharn? Five-claw, tell me what is happening," Khamira demanded, looking past her and into the sky with wide eyes.

Ellyria thought she would choke on the words, but still, she forced them out. Turning her own gaze on the floating island, panic began to race beneath her skin. _She left him there_. What kind of savior of Nirn was she if she couldn't even save one man? Shaking her head, she tried to force her thoughts out of darkness. There was no time for the Dragonborn to second guess herself. Akatosh would guide her, _surely_ , if she was his favored child, if she was really his sacrifice.

"Kaalgrontiid is trying to become a god. The island is part of his plan to ascend as the Dark Aeon." Her hesitation cast both Khamira and Sai Sahan's eyes on her. "Abnur is still there. He cast a portal to get me here, to get help, but he… he was weak."

Khamira knew the pain in her heart. Ellyria could feel it in the way her clawed hand found a blood-covered shoulder. "He will be alright, Five-claw. I, too, do not want to imagine him alone on that island. We must hurry to gather our forces, and then will we find a way to the island. I fear time is running out for all of us, not just Abnur Tharn."

A shudder wracked her body, but Ellyria didn't hesitate to accompany them back to the Sanctum with haste.


	8. Chapter 8

She was lost within herself again as she traversed the Moonlit Cave with Sai Sahan at her heels. Ellyria would give anything and everything for the weight to be on someone else's shoulders, even just _one single_ time. Each step carried her further away from Abnur and Kaalgrontiid, further from clarity and surety, further from what she'd destined to be her purpose. There were too many dragons inside of her, all vying for a place within, for a place to pluck at the strings that drove her forward. They were hate-filled creatures, each ready to grasp for the chance to drag her down with them. It was bleeding into her, clouding her thoughts with their own drive for vengeance. Kaalgrontiid had allowed them to die for his own opportunity for ascension, and they longed to smear his blood on the ground, to tear his flesh with their teeth and claws, to draw his soul in to join their own in the prison of her flesh. Spite and hate and a little bit of obligation spurred her forward, despite the lack of sleep and the layers of dried blood that covered her.

The door behind the waterfall pulsed with ancient magic, but she had ancient magic of her own. There was no time to search for missing tablet pieces, not with Abnur's life hanging in the balance. And the lives of those on Nirn and beyond, she reminded herself absently. Everyone else was forgotten again in her drive to save the mage that ruined her life. Why was her devotion to him so strong, even when she didn't want to care, even when she still felt the longing for another so far away?

"I'm going to force the door," she finally said. "Finding the tablets will take too long."

Sai Sahan's protests died on his lips when her feet dug into the ground and her eyelids fluttered shut. The concentration overcame her with stillness. Silence filled the air around them, thick enough to be cut with the blade of her sword. Then, her mouth opened, and the roar of a dragon burst forth to blow the door and the magic holding it to smithereens. The cave around them trembled with the force of it, ready to bow to the power of her voice. When Ellyria's eyes took in the sight before her, pleasure surged at the physical manifestation of the power she'd taken from those dragons that suffered her hand. Nothing would stand in her way again; she would make sure of this fact.

Khunzar-ri reminded her very much of Razum-dar. His voice echoed around them as they traversed the Jonelight path, and Ellyria could see Razum-dar's face in her mind's eye. Teasing and pompous, and just a bit too cheeky, it kept the idea of what she was fighting for fresh in her thoughts, even as the pretty idea of walking off the edge of a star path seemed oh, so easy. She could fall forever, letting someone else take the weight of the world, take the life of those she cared for onto their shoulders instead. Even as she thought these things, the vanity and arrogance of the dragons within her would not allow it. Her own dragon's soul would not, either. Even as the human inside begged her to end this madness, the beasts within shouted for silence. They would push her and push her until she crumbled beneath their will. As they pressed forward, Ellyria thought that maybe she had begun to figure it out. Maybe it was sleep deprivation, or maybe it was delirium, but her purpose in Elsweyr, Tamriel, even Nirn began to blur into nothing. For the first time, she was okay with that. She didn't need a purpose. She didn't need a reason. She didn't need to be the favored child, the sacrifice, the savior. She could just _be_ , and that was enough. _She_ would be enough to stop Kaalgrontiid and save the world one more time, and maybe she wouldn't even have to die to do it.

Nahfahlaar was waiting for them just up the stairs of the Dragonhold ruins. Most of the middle floor was still erect, much to Ellyria's surprise. There was no time to dwell on the sturdiness of stone walls, though, when the world hung in the balance before her. She tried to forget Abnur's absence as they made a brief plan to storm the floating island and destroy the aeonstones, sending up a silent prayer to all the Daedra and Aedra she knew that he would be safe. As each dark aeon creature fell to her blade, and each aeonstone crumbled beneath the weight of her shouts, she grew more and more discouraged on his behalf. Would she find him before the end? Or would this be for his vengeance? The fight brought life to her bones, even behind the worries that blurred her thoughts. The specter creatures and dreadnaughts did not bleed, and yet she cut them down all the same. Dancing through Nahfahlaar's flames, she lost herself to the dragons within, allowing them to guide her through the carnage that whirled around her.

"By the moons! It's Tharn!" Khamira's voice cut through the rushing of blood in her ears.

Without a thought to any other, Ellyria's feet carried her toward the mage. Relief rippled through her as if she were nothing but a puddle of rain on the ground. He was okay. She had not left him behind to die. His death would not be another weight to bear on her too heavy shoulders. She couldn't stop herself from bringing up her hand, covered in false claws, to make sure he was really _real_.

"Late again – how typical," he said darkly.

Abnur's blue eyes bored down into hers. Unsure why, she recoiled at the expression swimming in them. Something wasn't right.

"Tharn, you don't look so good," Khamira purred from behind her shoulder.

She was right, he didn't look good. His face was dripping with sweat, eyes bruised with exhaustion, and his labored breathing left something to be desired as far as oxygenation went. Ellyria swallowed carefully around her too thick tongue, unable to speak as she saw him wilting before her very eyes. Healing hands could only repair the body, not the essence. She would be powerless to save him from himself.

"Ever the voice of support and tact," he said slowly, deliberately. Abnur was going to great lengths to appear less affected than he was. "Considering the circumstances, I could be worse. Unfortunately, I believe we solved one problem and created another."

Ellyria's eyebrows furrowed in the center. "What do you mean?"

"To safely absorb all that energy, Kaalgrontiid needed the focal points. As close as he is to his ascension, safety will be the furthest thing from his mind. If he proceeds with his ascension and makes even the slightest mistake…" Abnur trailed off, removing his heavy gaze from her to look away toward the place she could feel Kaalgrontiid hovering.

"Tharn, what happens if Kaalgrontiid makes a mistake?" Khamira asked.

Her clawed hand was steadying and welcome against the small of Ellyria's back as she came closer. It was as if she knew the other woman needed strength to find her bearings again. The world was spinning in her head and Ellyria was at a loss as to which path would be the right one. Which path would kill them all? Which path would leave her the only life lost? Which path would leave her the only one alive, drenched in the blood and carrying the lives of those she cared for the most? She clenched her jaw, grinding her teeth tight against one another. She was not one to take the hit for another, and yet here she was, wondering how to make them leave so that only she would bleed for this. _She_ was the Dragonborn. _She_ was the sacrifice. Wasn't that what Orland said? Lost in her mind, she only came back to herself when Khamira's guiding hand pressed her forward.

This was it. It was time.

When Ellyria laid eyes on the object of her scorn, the universe fell away. There was only her blade, Kaalgrontiid, and the flesh prison of her dragons. Ellyria swept into battle with the swing of her sword and a shout rolling from her lips. Fire spewed from her heart and her mouth to burn the beast before her into nothingness. She was reckless and wild as she danced between the teeth of death with Kaalgrontiid. Then he was gone, shattering into dust around the blade lodged in his chin. Nahfahlaar sprayed fire upon the corpse made of nothing but bones, letting them float away as ash into the sky. A clang filled the unnatural silence when her sword slipped from between her fingers. From her knees, Ellyria threw her shout of triumph into the sky. Another god had fallen to her strength. The onset of hubris was unfamiliar and alien, not hers in every sense even though she could feel it as if it were her own. The dragons within roared with pleasure, screaming for their vengeance. She had done it. _She had done it_. The voices within fell silent and cold, absent now that her purpose to them had been fulfilled. Without the burning energy propelling her forward, there was nothing left of her to keep going. With her heart stuttering to a stop and her eyes blinking closed, the last she knew was the dark sky above. Beautiful and empty, there were no stars or gods to shine down on her. She would die triumphantly. She would die alone.


	9. Chapter 9

Awaking to the warm stone of the altar was not what Ellyria expected. Neither was the chill that frosted her guts and pebbled the exposed flesh of her arms. Something was missing, something inside of her that left a hole near where her heart was meant to be. A gasping breath alerted Khamira to her awareness. Pressing a trembling hand against her chest, she tried to push through the bone enough to fill the hole inside. Death had taken something from her, leaving her empty within.

"Five-claw, you are finally awake." Khamira's soft hands helped her move slowly into a sitting position. When she was upright, the queen still did not remove her steadying presence. "Are you alright? You have been unconscious for some time now."

Air hesitated to fill her lungs enough to speak. Had she been dead? _She had been dead_. Seconds passed without brain function before she could identify the problem. Then, air rushed into the vacuum of her chest. "It's gone, Khamira – the burn of my soul, it's gone. I can't – I can't feel the other dragons," she explained haltingly.

"Breathe slowly, Ellyria – you were very badly damaged in the battle with Kaalgrontiid. Nahfahlaar said the souls of the dragons would protect you, but it would take time for them to be restored within." Khamira's hand rubbed soft circles against her back, soothing and gentle. "He likened it to magic exhaustion."

The next question tumbled out without her consent. "Where are Abnur and Sai Sahan?"

Khamira's reluctance to speak was more telling than any words she could have used. Air whooshed from her lungs as if she'd been kicked in the chest. Black spots danced in her vision as she adjusted from being unable to breathe, to too much air, to gasping again. So much ached, inside and out. When her face crumpled, so did her heart. Ellyria dug the heels of her hands into her eyes, begging for the pain to snap her out of this nightmare. He couldn't be gone. _He couldn't be_. The sacrifice was _hers_ to make. Orland had said _she_ was the final sacrifice, not _him_.

"Sai has made his way back to the Dragonguard Sanctuary, but Tharn remained on the Dragon's Island. The aeostone was going to break, and someone had to contain the blast. Nahfahlaar returned, but he did not –"

A broken noise cut her off, and it took moments for Khamira to realize the sound was emerging from her companion. Ellyria cried brokenly into her fists, teeth chewing her lip bloody to hold in the sounds of despair threatening to spew forward. It was all she could do to hold herself together until she couldn't anymore. The worst was over, and yet she was still falling to pieces. Kaalgrontiid was dead, her purpose fulfilled, and she was still empty. Abnur Tharn and Razum-dar were both gone, from the world or from her life just the same. Her dragon soul was dormant again, broken from misuse. At least the world was saved, she acknowledged bitterly as if that meant anything to her. Khamira pulled her closely, allowing Ellyria's hands to find purchase against her leathers. Anything to anchor the flightless dragon in her arms. As the sun moved from high in the sky to barely cresting the horizon, they stayed that way. It was with heavy hands that Khamira guided Ellyria to her feet for the long walk back to a wayshrine that could spit them out at the Sanctum.

The scalding water felt like home on her bare flesh as Ellyria scrubbed away the dried blood. In the Sanctum's bathhouse, the water was always just a little too hot. Thankful for it this time, she finally felt clean when she emerged. Water dripped in rivulets down the soft dress she borrowed from Khamira. It was difficult to care about the mess she made with water as she squeezed her hair out onto the stone floor. There was no reason to dry off when the stifling heat of Pelletine would dry her soon enough, despite the darkness of night. Her bare feet padded out to the courtyard, but then she was stuck. In her mind's eye, Abnur and Khamira were stepping through a portal, ready to track down Kaalgrontiid. Every place he'd stood before was filled with his specter, haunting her as she stepped carefully through the halls of the Sanctum. Swallowing down the lump in her throat was _hard_. Days had passed before she'd been able to leave her chambers to bathe, and days more had passed before she'd been able to attempt it without Khamira's prodding. It felt _good_ to be clean of her own volition, though. And for the first time, she was not crying.

"It is good to see you out of your chambers, Ellyria," Sai Sahan remarked from his place by the courtyard door. "Another letter has come for you in the aftermath of the end of days. Perhaps you will read this one."

"Thanks," was all she managed.

The parchment was thick in the envelope and sealed with her own initials. Clearly, it was from Navarre or her children. Shame heated her face when she realized it was the first time in many days that she'd given thought to those she left behind in Auridon. So caught up in Abnur fucking Tharn, as usual, she degraded herself painfully. There was no longer an Abnur Tharn to be caught up in, though. Her feet guided her mindless steps to the chambers that she called her own. With shaking fingers, she pulled the seal from the envelope and removed the parchment inside. There was a page from Adrian first, begging for stories about dragons that she'd slain, wondering at the magic he was being taught by Navarre, and marveling at the friend he'd made of a stable-boy caring for the horse she'd procured for him from a distance. He was working hard to learn all the things that could be taught to him. The second page was Sarelia's perfect script. There was question after question about everything, from "What is Pelletine like?" to "What do you eat while you're hunting dragons?" and "When will you return again?" Her stories of blood and dirt from sparing with anyone that would look at her were a pleasure to read. Ellyria couldn't help the smile that dragged up the side of her mouth. She saw far too much of herself in both children. Burning her eyes and blurring her vision, she had to wait through the tears that welled up before she could continue. The third page was split in half. The top was from her mother, a cursory letter to ask how she was doing and when she would return. It was progress, though, as back in Aldmeris, she'd never bothered to speak to Ellyria unless the need was dire. The bottom, from Navarre, detailed the state of her affairs. It was the last few sentences that sent her heart thudding to life in her chest for the first time in months.

_Razum-dar continues to ask if we've heard from you, despite my repeated statements to the contrary. He's here most nights, eating my food and sleeping in your bed, coming and going at odd hours on business for Queen Ayrenn. I thought I would be free of cleaning your loft with you out for business, though I supposed I should have expected this. Who would have known that Khajiit shed so much in their sleep? I think he's taken a hit to his ego since you've been clearly too busy to respond to his letters. Serves him right._

She was laughing through the tears in her eyes, then, and wondering what she had done to deserve the people that cared so much for her. Nothing, her head reminded her. Everything, her heart whispered right after, soothing the ache just enough to keep her from falling further apart.

It was time to go _home_. Ellyria gathered her things into a satchel as she wandered slowly around her chambers. Each place had a memory-filled with Abnur Tharn, and she wondered if she would ever be able to truly let him go. It had been Abnur to bring her to this place of wonder and magic and gods and dragons, even if by accident. She had him to thank for Navarre, for Razum-dar, for the dragons she'd bested and the gods she'd slain. Ellyria's heart thudded painfully in her chest. For the first time upon returning from Dragon's Island, his specter didn't follow her through the halls as she said her good-byes. He didn't follow her to collect Sapphire from her stall, didn't follow her to the wayshrine. A harsh swallow cleared the lump from her throat. Ellyria steadied herself and her magic. It was her turn to rest.


End file.
